FALLING  IN  LOVE,  WITH  OTHER 

ESSAYS  ON  MORE  EXACT 

BRANCHES  OF 

SCIENCE 


„'.^ 


li.O'^  ■ 


BY 


GRANT     ALLEN 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON     AND    COMPANY 

1890 


2  7  4  2  u  ;- 


Authorized  Edition. 


PREFACE 


Some  people  complain  that  science  is  dry.    That  is,  of 

course,  a  matter  of  taste.     For  my  own  part,  I  like 

my  science  and  my  champagne  as  dry  as  I  can  get 

them.     But  the  i^ublic  thinks  otherwise.     So  I  have 

ventured  to  sweeten  accompanying  samples  as  far  as 

possible  to  suit  the  demand,  and  trust  they  will  meet 

with  the  approbation  of  consumers. 

Of  the  specimens  here  selected  for  exhibition,  my 

title    piece    originally   appeared   in   the   Fortnightly 

Revieiv  :  *  Honey  Dew  '  and  *  The  First  Potter  '  were 

contributions  to   Longman's  Magazine :    and  all  tbe 

rest  found  friendly  shelter  between  the  familiar  yellow 

covers  of  the  good  old  Cornhill.     My  thanks  are  due 

to    the    proprietors   and    editors   of    those    various 

periodicals   for  kind  permission   to   reproduce  them 

here^ 

G.  A. 


CONTENTS 


PAOH 

Falling  in  Love 1 

Right  and  Left 18 

Evolution 31 

Strictly  Incog 50 

Seven-Year  Sleepers        72 

A  Fossil  Continent 88 

A  Very  Old  Master 10(j 

British  and  Foreign IT.i 

Thunderbolts ,,  137 

Honey-dew lo'j 

The  Milk  in  the  Coco-Nut ITO 

Food  and  Feeding 193 

De  Banana 210 

Go  to  the  Ant 233 

Big  Animals 251 

Fossil  Food ■        .        .        .    ,  271 

OoBtTRY  Barrows 287 

Fish  Out  of  Water 302 

The  First  Potter 316 

The  Recipe  for  Genius 328 

Desert  Sands    341 


FALLING  LW  LOVE 

An  ancient  and  famous  human  institution  is  in  pressing 
danger.  Sir  George  Campbell  has  set  his  face  against  the 
time-honoured  practice  of  Falling  in  Love.  Parents  innu- 
merable, it  is  true,  have  set  their  faces  against  it  already 
from  immemorial  antiquity ;  but  then  they  only  attacked  the 
particular  instanci  without  venturing  to  impugn  the  insti- 
tution itself  on  general  principles.  An  old  Indian  adminis- 
trator, however,  goes  to  work  in  all  things  on  a  different 
pattern.  He  would  always  like  to  regulate  human  life 
generally  as  a  department  of  the  India  Office  ;  and  so  Sir 
George  Campbell  would  fain  have  husbands  and  wives 
selected  for  one  another  (perhaps  on  Dr.  Johnson's  principle, 
by  the  Lord  Chancellor)  with  a  view  to  the  futu  3  develop- 
ment of  the  race,  in  the  process  which  he  not  very 
felicitously  or  elegantly  describes  as  '  man-breeding.'  *  Pro- 
bably,' he  says,  as  reported  in  Nature,  '  we  have  enough 
physiological  knowledge  to  effect  a  vast  improvement  in 
the  pairing  of  individuals  of  the  same  or  allied  races  if  we 
could  only  apply  that  knowledge  to  make  fitting  marriages, 
instead  of  giving  way  to  foohsh  ideas  about  love  and  the 
tastes  of  young  people,  whom  we  can  hardly  trust  to  choose 
their  own  bonnets,  much  less  to  choose  in  a  graver  matter 
in  which  they  are  most  likely  to  be  influenced  by  frivolous 
prejudices.'  He  wants  us,  in  other  words,  to  discard  the 
deep-seated  inner  physiological  promptings  of  inherited 
instinct,  and  to  substitute  for  them  some  calm  and  dis- 


2  FALLING  IN   LOVE 

I»assionato  but  artificial  selection  of  a  fitting;;  partner  as  the 
father  or  niotlicr  of  future  generations. 

Now  this  is  of  course  a  serious  subject,  and  it  ought  to  be 
treated  seriously  and  reverently.  But,  it  seems  to  nie,  Sir 
George  Campbell's  conclusion  is  exactly  the  opposite  one 
from  the  conclusion  now  being  forced  upon  men  of  science 
by  a  study  of  the  biological  and  psychological  elements  in 
this  very  complex  problem  of  heredity.  So  fiir  from  con- 
sidering love  as  a  *  foolish  idea,'  opposed  to  the  best  interests 
of  the  race,  I  believe  most  competent  pliysiologists  and 
psychologists,  especially  those  of  the  modern  evolutionary 
school,  would  regard  it  rather  as  an  essentially  beneficent 
and  conservative  instinct  developed  and  maintained  in  us 
by  natural  causes,  for  the  very  purpose  of  insuring  just 
those  precise  advantages  and  improvements  which  Sir 
George  Campbell  thinks  he  could  himself  effect  by  a  con- 
scious and  deliberate  process  of  selection.  More  than  that, 
I  believe,  for  my  own  part  (and  I  feel  sure  most  evolution- 
ists would  cordially  agree  with  me),  that  this  beneficent 
inherited  instinct  of  Falling  in  Love  effects  the  object  it 
has  in  view  far  more  admirably,  subtly,  and  satisfactorily, 
on  the  average  of  instances,  than  any  clumsy  human 
selective  substitute  could  possibly  effect  it. 

In  short,  my  doctrine  is  simply  the  old-fashioned  and 
confiding  belief  that  marriages  are  made  in  heaven  :  with 
the  further  corollary  that  heaven  manages  them,  one  time 
with  another,  a  great  deal  better  than  Sir  George  Camp- 
bell. 

Let  us  first  look  how  Falling  in  Love  affects  the 
standard  of  human  efficiency ;  and  then  let  us  consider 
what  would  be  the  probable  result  of  any  definite  conscious 
attempt  to  substitute  for  it  some  more  deliberate  external 
agency. 

Falling  in  Love,  as  modem  biology  teaches  us  to  be- 


FALLING  IN  LOVE  8 

lieve,  ig  nothin;?  moro  than  tho  latest,  highest,  and  most 
involved  exemplification,  in  the  human  race,  of  that  almost 
universal  selective  process  which  ^fr.  Darwin  has  cnahled 
us  to  recognise  throughout  tho  whole  long  series  of  the 
animal  kingdom.  The  butterfly  that  circles  and  eddies  in 
his  aerial  dance  around  his  observant  mate  is  endeavouring 
to  charm  her  by  the  delicacy  of  his  colouring,  and  to  over- 
come her  coyness  by  the  display  of  his  skill.  The  peacoi'k 
that  struts  about  in  imperial  pride  under  the  eyes  of  his 
attentive  hens,  is  really  contributing  to  the  future  beauty 
and  strength  of  his  race  by  collecting  to  himself  a  harem 
through  whom  he  hands  down  to  posterity  the  valuable 
qualities  which  have  gained  the  aduiiration  of  liis  mates 
in  his  own  person.  Mr.  Wallace  has  shown  that  to  bo 
beautiful  is  to  be  efficient ;  and  sexual  selection  is  thus,  as 
it  were,  a  mere  lateral  form  of  natural  selection — a  survival 
of  the  fittest  in  the  guise  of  mutual  attractiveness  and 
mutual  adaptability,  producing  on  the  average  a  maximum 
of  the  best  properties  of  the  race  in  the  resulting  offspring. 
I  need  not  dwell  here  upon  this  aspect  of  the  case,  because 
it  is  one  with  which,  since  the  publication  of  the  '  Descent 
of  Man,'  all  the  world  has  been  sufficiently  familiar. 

In  our  own  species,  the  selective  process  is  marked  by 
all  the  features  common  to  selection  throughout  the  whole 
animal  kingdom ;  but  it  is  also,  as  might  be  expected,  far 
more  specialised,  far  more  individualised,  far  more  cognisant 
of  personal  traits  and  minor  pecxiliarities.  It  is  further- 
more exerted  to  a  far  greater  extent  upon  mental  and  moral 
as  well  as  physical  peculiarities  in  the  individual. 

We  cannot  fall  in  love  with  everybody  alike.  Some  of 
us  faU  in  love  with  one  person,  some  with  another.  This 
instinctive  and  deep-seated  differential  feeling  we  may 
regard  as  the  outcome  of  complementary  features,  mental, 
moral,  or  physical,  in  the  two  persons  concerned  ;  and  ex* 


4  FALLING  IN  LOVE 

perience  shows  us  that,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  it  is  a 
reciprocal  affection,  that  is  to  say,  in  other  words,  an 
affection  roused  in  unison  by  varying  quahties  in  the  re- 
spective individuals. 

Of  its  eminently  conservative  and  even  upward  tendency 
very  little  doubt  can  be  reasonably  entertained.  We  do 
fall  in  love,  taking  us  in  the  lump,  with  the  young,  the 
beautiful,  the  strong,  and  the  healthy ;  we  do  not  fall  in 
love,  taking  us  in  the  lump,  with  the  aged,  the  ugly,  the 
feeble,  and  the  sickly.  The  prohibition  of  the  Church  is 
scarcely  needed  to  prevent  a  man  from  marrying  his  grand- 
mother. Morahsts  have  always  borne  a  special  grudge  to 
pretty  faces  ;  but,  as  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  admirably  put  it 
(long  before  the  appearance  of  Darwin's  selective  theory), 
'the  saying  that  beauty  is  but  skin-deep  is  itself  but  a 
skin-deep  saying.'  In  reality,  beauty  is  one  of  the  very 
best  guides  we  can  possibly  have  to  the  desirability,  so  far 
as  race-preser\ation  is  concerned,  of  any  man  or  any 
woman  as  a  partner  in  marriage.  A  fine  form,  a  good 
figure,  a  beautiful  bust,  a  round  arm  and  neck,  a  fresh 
complexion,  a  lovely  face,  are  all  outward  and  visible  signs 
of  the  physical  qualities  that  on  the  whole  conspire  to 
make  up  a  healthy  and  vigorous  wife  and  mother ;  they 
imply  soundness,  fertility,  a  good  circulation,  a  good 
digestion.  Conversf.iy,  sallowncss  and  paleness  are  roughly 
indicative  of  dyspepsia  and  anasmia ;  a  flat  chest  is  a 
symptom  of  deficient  maternity ;  and  what  we  call  a  bad 
figure  is  really,  in  one  way  or  another,  an  unhealthy  de- 
parture from  the  central  norma  and  standard  of  the  race. 
Good  teeth  mean  good  deglutition ;  a  clear  eye  means  an 
active  liver ;  scrubbiness  and  undcrsizedness  mean  feeble 
virility.  Nor  are  indications  of  mental  and  moral  efficiency 
by  any  means  wanting  as  recognised  elements  in  personal 
beauty.     A  good-humoured  face  is  in  itself  almost  pretty. 


FALLING  m  LOVE  5 

A  pleasant  smile  half  redeems  unattractive  features.  Low, 
receding  foreheads  strike  us  uniavourably.  Heavy,  stolid, 
half-idioti(;  countenances  can  never  be  beautiful,  however 
regular  tiieir  lines  and  contours.  Intelligence  and  good- 
ness are  almost  as  necessary  as  health  and  vigour  in  order 
to  make  up  our  perfect  ideal  of  a  beautiful  hmnan  face  and 
figure.  The  Apollo  Belvedere  is  no  fool ;  the  murderers  in 
the  Chamber  of  Horrors  at  Madame  Tussaud's  are  for  the 
most  part  no  beauties. 

What  we  all  fall  in  love  with,  then,  as  a  race,  is  in  most 
casf^s  efficiency  and  ability.  What  we  each  fall  in  love 
with  individually  is,  I  beheve,  our  moral,  mental,  and 
physical  complement.  Not  our  like,  not  our  counterpart ; 
quite  the  contrary ;  within  healthy  limits,  our  unlike  and 
our  opposite.  That  this  is  so  has  long  been  more  or  less  a 
commonplace  of  ordinary  conversation ;  that  it  is  scien- 
tifically true,  one  time  with  another,  when  we  take  an 
extended  range  of  cases,  may,  I  think,  be  almost  demon- 
strated by  sure  and  certain  warranty  of  human  nature. 

Brothers  and  sisters  have  more  in  common,  mentally 
and  physically,  than  any  other  members  of  the  same  race 
can  possibly  have  with  one  another.  But  nobody  falls  in 
love  with  his  sister.  A  profound  instinct  has  taught  even 
the  lower  races  of  men  (for  the  most  part)  to  avoid  such 
union  of  the  all-but-identical.  In  the  higher  races  the  idea 
never  so  much  as  occurs  to  us.  Even  cousins  seldom  fall 
in  love — seldom,  that  is  to  say,  in  comparison  with  the 
frequent  opportunities  of  intercourse  they  enjoy,  relatively 
to  the  remainder  of  general  society.  When  they  do,  and 
when  they  carry  out  their  perilous  choice  effectively  by 
marriage,  natural  selection  soon  avenges  Nature  upon  the 
offspring  by  cutting  off  the  idiots,  the  consumptives,  the 
weaklings,  and  the  cripples,  who  often  result  from  such 
consanguineous  marriages.     In  narrow  communities,  where 


C  FALLING  IN  LOVE 

breeding  in-and-in  becomes  almost  inevitable,  natural 
selection  has  similarly  to  exert  itself  upon  a  crowd  of  crdtins 
and  other  hapless  incapables.  But  in  wide  and  open 
champaign  countries,  where  individual  choice  has  free  room 
for  exercise,  men  and  women  as  a  rule  (if  not  constrained 
by  parents  and  moralists)  marry  for  love,  and  marry  on  the 
whole  their  natural  complements.  They  prefer  outsiders, 
fresh  blood,  somebody  who  comes  from  beyond  the  com- 
munity, to  the  people  of  their  own  immediate  surroundings. 
In  many  men  the  dislike  to  marrying  among  the  folk  with 
whom  they  have  been  brought  up  amounts  almost  to  a 
positive  instinct ;  they  feel  it  as  impossible  to  fall  in  love 
with  a  follow-townswoman  as  to  fall  in  love  with  their  own 
first  cousins.  Among  exogamous  tribes  such  an  instinct 
(aided,  of  course,  by  other  extraneous  causes)  has  hardened 
into  custom ;  and  there  is  reason  to  believe  (from  the 
universal  traces  among  the  higher  civilisations  of  marriage 
by  capture)  that  all  the  leading  races  of  the  world  are 
ultimately  derived  from  exogamous  ancestors,  possessing 
this  healthy  and  excellent  sentiment. 

In  minor  matters,  it  is  of  course  universally  admitted 
that  short  men,  as  a  rule,  prefer  tall  women,  while  tall  men 
admire  little  women.  Dark  pairs  by  preference  with 
fair ;  the  commonplace  often  runs  after  the  original. 
People  have  long  noticed  that  this  attraction  towards 
one's  opposite  tends  to  keep  true  the  standard  of  the  race  ; 
they  have  not,  perhaps,  so  generally  observed  that  it  also 
indicates  roughly  the  existence  in  either  individual  of  a 
desire  for  its  own  natural  complement.  It  is  difficult 
here  to  give  definite  examples,  but  everybody  knows  how,  in 
the  subtle  psychology  of  FalUng  in  Love,  there  are  involved 
innumerable  minor  elements,  physical  and  mental,  which 
strike  us  exactly  because  of  their  absolute  adaptation  to  form 
with  ourselves  an  adequate  union.    Of  course  we  do  not 


FALLING   IN  LOVE  7 

definitely  seek  out  and  discover  such  qualities  ;  instinct  works 
far  more  intuitively  than  that ;  but  we  find  at  last,  by  sub- 
sequent observation,  how  true  and  how  trustworthy  were 
its  immediate  indications.  That  is  to  say,  those  men  do  so 
who  were  wise  enough  or  fortunate  enough  to  follow  the 
earliest  promptings  of  their  own  hearts,  and  not  to  be 
ashamed  of  that  divinest  and  deepest  of  human  intuitions^ 
love  at  first  sight. 

How  very  subtle  this  intuition  is,  we  can  only  guess  in 
part  by  the  apparent  capriciousness  and  incomprehensibility 
of  its  occasional  action.  We  know  that  some  men  and 
women  fall  in  love  easily,  while  others  are  only  moved  to 
love  by  some  very  special  and  singular  combination  of 
peculiarities.  We  know  that  one  man  is  readily  stirred  by 
every  pretty  face  he  sees,  while  another  man  can  only  be 
roused  by  intellectual  qualities  or  by  moral  beauty.  We 
know  that  sometimes  we  meet  people  possessing  every 
virtue  and  grace  under  heaven,  and  yet  for  some  unknown 
and  incomprehensible  reason  we  could  no  more  fall  in  love 
with  them  than  we  could  fall  in  love  with  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments. I  don't,  of  course,  for  a  moment  accept  the 
silly  romantic  notion  that  men  and  women  fall  in  love  only 
once  in  their  lives,  or  that  each  one  of  us  has  some- 
where on  earth  his  or  her  exact  affinity,  whom  we  must 
sooner  or  later  meet  or  else  die  unsatisfied.  Almost  every 
healthy  normal  man  or  woman  has  probably  fallen  in  love 
over  and  over  again  in  the  course  of  a  hfetime  (except  in 
case  of  very  early  marriage),  and  could  easily  find 
dozens  of  persons  with  whom  they  would  be  capable  of 
falling  in  love  again  if  due  occasion  ofiered.  We  are  not 
all  created  in  pairs,  like  the  Exchequer  tallies,  exactly 
intended  to  fit  into  one  another's  minor  idiosyncrasies. 
Men  and  women  as  a  rule  very  sensibly  fall  in  love  with 
one  another  in  the  particular  places  and  the  particular 


8  FALLING   IN  LOVE 

societies  they  happen  to  be  cast  among.  A  nmn  at  Ashby- 
(le-la-Zouch  does  not  hunt  the  world  over  to  find  his  pre- 
estabhshed  harmony  at  Paray-le-Monial  or  at  Denver, 
Colorado.  But  among  the  women  he  actually  meets,  a 
vast  number  are  purely  indifferent  to  him  ;  only  one  or  two, 
here  and  there,  strike  him  in  the  light  of  possible  ^vlves, 
and  only  one  in  the  last  resort  (outside  Salt  Lake  City) 
approves  herself  to  his  inmost  nature  as  the  actual  wife  of 
his  final  selection. 

Now  this  very  indifference  to  the  vast  mass  of  our  fellow- 
countrymen  or  fellow- countrywomen,  this  extreme  pitch 
of  selective  preference  in  the  human  species,  is  just  one 
mark  of  our  extraordinary  speciahsation,  one  stamp  and 
token  of  our  high  supremacy.  The  brutes  do  not  so  pick 
and  choose,  though  even  there,  as  Darwin  has  shown,  selec- 
tion plays  a  large  part  (for  the  very  butterflies  are  coy,  and 
must  be  wooed  and  won).  It  is  only  in  the  human  race  itself 
that  selection  descends  into  such  minute,  such  subtle,  such 
indefinable  discriminations.  Why  should  a  universal  and 
common  impulse  have  in  our  case  these  special  limits  ? 
Why  should  we  be  by  nature  so  fastidious  and  so  diversely 
affected?  Surely  for  some  good  and  sufficient  purpose. 
No  deep-seated  want  of  our  complex  life  would  be  so 
narrowly  restricted  without  a  law  and  a  meaning.  Some- 
times we  can  in  part  explain  its  conditions.  Here,  we  see 
that  beauty  plays  a  great  role  ;  there,  we  recognise  the 
importance  of  strength,  of  manner,  of  grace,  of  moral 
qualities.  Vivacity,  as  Mr.  Galton  justly  remarks,  is  one 
of  the  most  powerful  among  human  attractions,  and  often 
accounts  for  what  might  otherwise  seem  unaccountable 
preferences.  But  after  all  is  said  and  done,  there  remains 
a  vast  mass  of  instinctive  and  inexplicable  elements :  a 
power  deeper  and  more  marvellous  in  its  inscrutable  rami- 
fications than  human  consciousness.     '  What  on  earth,'  we 


FALLING   IN  LOVE  9 

say,  *  could  So-and-so  see  in  So-and-so  to  fall  in  love  with  ? ' 
This  very  inexplicability  I  take  to  be  the  sign  and  seal  of  a 
profound  importance.  An  instinct  so  conditioned,  so  curious, 
so  vague,  so  unfathomable,  as  we  may  guess  by  analogy 
with  all  other  instincts,  must  be  Nature's  guiding  voice 
within  us,  speaking  for  the  good  of  the  human  race  in  all 
future  generations. 

On  the  other  hand,  let  us  suppose  for  a  moment  (im- 
possible supposition  ! )  that  manldnd  could  conceivably  di- 
vest itself  of  '  these  foolish  ideas  about  love  and  the  tastes 
of  young  people,'  and  could  hand  over  the  choice  of  partners 
for  life  to  a  committee  of  anthropologists,  presided  over 
by  Sir  George  Campbell.  Would  the  committee  manage 
things,  I  wonder,  very  much  better  than  the  Creator  has 
managed  them  '?  Where  would  they  obtain  that  intimate 
knowledge  of  individual  structures  and  functions  and  differ- 
ences which  would  enable  them  to  join  together  in  holy 
matrimony  ^tting  and  complementary  idiosyncrasies  ?  Is 
a  living  man,  with  all  his  organs,  and  powers,  and  faculties, 
and  dispositions,  so  simple  and  easy  a  problem  to  read  that 
anybody  else  can  -readily  undertake  to  pick  out  off-hand  a 
help  meet  for  him  ?  I  trow  not !  A  man  is  not  a  horse 
or  a  terrier.  You  cannot  discern  his  '  points '  by  simple 
inspection.  You  cannot  see  d  priori  why  a  Hanoverian 
bandsman  and  his  heavy,  ignorant,  uncultured  wife,  should 
conspire  to  produce  a  Sir  William  Herschel.  If  you  tried 
to  improve  the  breed  artificially,  either  by  choice  from 
outside,  or  by  the  creation  of  an  independent  moral  senti- 
ment, irrespective  of  that  instinctive  preference  which  we 
call  Falling  in  Love,  I  beheve  that  so  far  from  improving 
man,  you  would  only  do  one  of  two  things — either  spoil  his 
constitution,  or  produce  a  tame  stereotj-ped  pattern  of 
amiable  imbecility.  You  would  crush  out  all  initiative, 
all  spontaneity,  all  diversity,  all   originality ;   you  would 


10  FALLING  IN  LOVE 

get  an  animated  moral  code  instead  of  living  men  and 
women. 

Look  at  the  analogy  of  domestic  animals.  That  is  the 
analogy  to  which  breeding  reformers  always  point  with 
special  pride  :  but  what  does  it  really  teach  us  ?  That  you 
can't  improve  the  efficiency  of  animals  in  any  one  point  to 
any  high  degree,  without  upsetting  the  general  balance  of 
their  constitution.  The  race-horse  can  run  a  mile  on  a 
particular  day  at  a  particular  place,  bar  accidents,  with 
wonderful  speed :  but  that  is  about  all  lie  is  good  for.  His 
health  as  a  whole  is  so  surprisingly  feeble  that  he  has  to 
be  treated  with  as  much  care  as  a  delicate  exotic.  '  In 
regard  to  animals  and  plants,'  says  Sir  George  Campbell, 
•  we  have  very  largely  mastered  the  principles  of  heredity 
and  culture,  and  the  modes  by  which  good  qualities  rnay  be 
maximised,  bad  quahties  minimised.'  True,  so  far  as  con- 
cerns a  few  points  prized  by  ourselves  for  our  own  purposes. 
But  in  doing  this,  we  have  so  lowered  the  general  constitu- 
tional vigour  of  the  plants  or  animals  that  our  vines  fall  an 
easy  prey  to  oidium  and  phylloxera,  our  potatoes  to  the 
potato  disease  and  the  Colorado  beetle ;  our  sheep  are 
stupid,  our  rabbits  idiotic,  our  domestic  breeds  generally 
threatened  with  dangers  to  life  and  hmb  unknown  to  their 
wiry  ancestors  in  the  wild  state.  And  when  one  comes  to 
deal  with  the  mfinitely  more  complex  individuality  of  man, 
what  hope  would  there  be  of  our  improving  the  breed  by 
deliberate  selection  ?  If  we  developed  the  intellect,  we 
would  probably  stunt  the  physique  or  the  moral  nature  ;  if 
we  aimed  at  a  general  culture  of  all  faculties  alike,  we  would 
probably  end  by  a  Chinese  uniformity  of  mediocre  dead 
level. 

The  balance  of  organs  and  faculties  in  a  race  is  a  very 
delicate  organic  equilibrium.  How  delicate  we  now  know 
from  thousands  of  examples,  from  the  correlations  of  seem- 


FALLING   IN  LOVE  11 

ingly  unlike  parts,  from  the  wide-f.preai  effects  of  small 
conditions,  from  the  utter  dying  out  of  races  like  the  Tas- 
manians  or  the  Paraguay  Indians  under  circumstances 
different  from  those  with  which  their  ancestors  w^ere 
familiar.  \Vhat  folly  to  interfere  with  a  marvellous  instinct 
wliich  now  preserves  this  balance  intact,  in  favour  of  an 
untried  artificial  system  which  would  probably  wreck  it  as 
helplessly  as  the  modern  system  of  higher  education  for 
women  is  wrecking  the  maternal  powers  of  the  best  class 
in  our  English  community  ! 

Indeed,  within  the  race  itself,  as  it  now  exists,  free 
choice,  aided  by  natural  selection,  is  actually  improving 
eery  good  point,  and  is  for  ever  weeding  out  all  the  occa- 
sional failures  and  shortcomings  of  nature.  For  weakly 
children,  feeble  children,  stupid  children,  heavy  children, 
are  undoubtedly  born  under  this  very  regime  of  falling  in 
love,  whose  average  results  I  believe  to  be  so  highly  bene- 
ficial. How  is  this  ?  Well,  one  has  to  take  into  considera- 
tion two  points  in  seeking  for  the  solution  of  that  obvious 
problem. 

In  the  first  place,  no  instinct  is  absolutely  perfect.  All 
of  them  necessarily  fail  at  some  points.  If  on  the  average 
they  do  good,  they  are  sufficiently  justified.  Now  the 
material  with  which  you  have  to  start  in  this  case  is  not 
perfect.  Each  man  marries,  even  in  favourable  circum- 
stances, not  the  abstractly  best  adapted  woman  in  the 
world  to  supplement  or  counteract  his  individual  pecuUar- 
ities,  but  the  best  woman  then  and  there  obtainable  for 
him.  The  result  is  frequently  far  from  perfect ;  all  I  claim 
is  that  it  would  be  as  bad  or  a  good  deal  worse  if  somebody 
else  made  the  choice  for  him,  or  if  he  made  the  choice  him- 
self on  abstract  biological  and  '  eugenic  '  principles.  And, 
indeed,  the  very  existence  of  better  and  worse  in  the  world 
is  a  condition  precedent  of  all  upward  evolution.     Without 


12  FALLING  IN  LOVE 

an  overstoclccd  world,  with  individual  variations,  some  pro- 
gressive, some  retro<,'rado,  there  could  be  no  natural  selec- 
tion, no  survival  of  the  fittest.  That  is  the  chief  besetting 
danger  of  cut-and-dricd  doctrinaire  views.  Malthus  was  a 
very  great  man  ;  but  if  his  principle  of  prudential  restraint 
were  fully  carried  out,  the  prudent  would  cease  to  reproduce 
their  like,  and  the  world  would  be  peopled  in  a  few  genera- 
tions by  the  hereditarily  reckless  and  dissolute  and  impru- 
dent. Even  so,  if  eugenic  principles  were  universally 
adopted,  the  chance  of  exceptional  and  elevated  natures 
would  be  largely  reduced,  and  natural  selection  would  be 
in  so  much  interfered  with  or  sensibly  retarded. 

In  the  second  place,  again,  it  must  not  be  forgotten 
that  falling  in  love  has  never  yet,  among  civilised  men  at 
least,  had  a  fair  field  and  no  favour.  Many  marriages  are 
arranged  on  very  different  grounds — grounds  of  convenience, 
grounds  of  cupidity,  grounds  of  religion,  grounds  of  snobbish- 
ness. In  many  cases  it  is  clearly  demonstrable  that  such 
marriages  are  productive  in  the  highest  degree  of  evil  con- 
sequences. Take  the  case  of  heiresses.  An  heiress  is 
almost  by  necessity  the  one  last  feeble  and  flickering  relic 
of  a  moribund  stock — often  of  a  stock  reduced  by  the  sordid 
pursuit  of  ill-gotten  wealth  almost  to  the  very  verge  of 
actual  insanity.  But  let  her  be  ever  so  ugly,  ever  so  un- 
healthy, ever  so  hysterical,  ever  so  mad,  somebody  or  other 
will  be  ready  and  eager  to  marry  her  on  any  terms.  Con- 
siderations of  this  sort  have  helped  to  stock  the  world  with 
many  feeble  and  unhealthy  persons.  Among  the  middle 
and  upper  classes  it  may  be  safely  said  only  a  very  small 
percentage  of  marriages  is  ever  due  to  love  alone  ;  in  other 
words,  to  instinctive  feeling.  The  remainder  have  been  in- 
fluenced by  various  side  advantages,  and  nature  has  takenher 
vengeance  accordingly  on  the  unhappy  offspring.  Parents 
and  moraUsts  are  ever  ready  to  drown  her  voice,  and  to 


FALLING  IN   LOVE  13 

counsel  marriage  within  one's  own  class,  among  nice  people, 
with  a  really  religious  girl,  and  so  forth  ad  infinitwn.  By 
many  well-meaning  young  people  these  deadly  interferences 
with  natural  impulse  are  accepted  as  part  of  a  higher  and 
nobler  law  of  conduct.  The  wretched  belief  that  one 
sbiould  subordinate  the  promptings  of  one's  own  soul  to  the 
dictates  of  a  miscalculating  and  misdirecting  prudence  has 
been  instilled  into  the  minds  of  girls  especially,  until  at 
last  many  of  them  have  almost  come  to  look  upon  their 
natural  instincts  as  wrong,  and  the  immoral,  race-destructive 
counsels  of  their  seniors  or  advisers  as  the  truest  and  purest 
earthly  wisdom.  Among  certain  small  religious  sects, 
again,  such  as  the  Quakers,  the  duty  of  '  marrying  in  '  has 
been  strenuously  inculcated,  and  only  the  stronger-minded 
and  more  individualistic  members  have  had  courage  and 
initiative  enough  to  disregard  precedent,  and  to  follow  the 
internal  divine  monitor,  as  against  the  externally-imposed 
law  of  their  particular  community.  Even  among  wider 
bodies  it  is  connnonly  held  that  Catholics  must  not  marry 
Protestants  ;  and  the  admirable  results  obtained  by  the 
mixture  of  Jewish  with  European  blood  have  almost  all 
been  reached  by  male  Jews  having  the  temerity  to  marry 
*  Christian  '  women  in  the  face  of  opposition  and  persecu- 
tion from  their  co-nationalists.  It  is  very  rarely  indeed 
that  a  Jewess  will  accept  a  European  for  a  husband.  In 
so  many  ways,  and  on  so  many  grounds,  does  convention 
interfere  with  the  plain  and  evident  dictates  of  nature. 

Against  all  such  evil  parental  promptings,  however,  a 
great  safeguard  is  aftbrded  to  society  by  the  wholesome 
and  essentially  philosophical  teaching  of  romance  and 
poetry.  I  do  not  approve  of  novels.  They  are  for  the 
most  part  a  futile  and  unprofitable  form  of  literature  ;  and 
it  may  profoundly  be  regretted  that  the  mere  blind  laws  of 
supply  and  demand  should  have  diverted  such  an  immense 


14  FALLING   IN  LOVE 

numLer  of  the  ablest  minds  in  En;^'land,  France,  and  America, 
from  more  serious  subjects  to  the  production  of  such  very 
frivolous  and,  on  the  whole,  ephemeral  works  of  art.  But 
the  novel  has  tliis  one  great  countcrp(3ise  of  undoubted  good 
to  sot  against  all  the  manifold  disadvantages  and  short- 
comings of  romantic  literature — that  it  always  appeals  to 
the  true  internal  promptings  of  inherited  instinct,  and 
oi)poses  the  foolish  and  selfish  suggestions  of  interested 
outsiders.  It  is  the  perpetual  protest  of  poor  banished 
human  natui'e  against  the  expelling  pitchfork  of  calculating 
expediency  in  the  matrimonial  marketc  While  parents  and 
moralists  are  for  ever  saying,  '  Don't  marry  for  beauty ; 
don't  marry  for  incluiation  ;  don't  marry  for  love :  marry 
for  money,  marry  for  social  position,  marry  for  advance- 
ment, marry  for  our  convenience,  not  for  your  own,'  the 
romance-writer  is  for  ever  urging,  on  the  other  hand. 
'  Marry  for  love,  and  for  love  only.'  His  great  theme  in  all 
ages  has  been  the  opposition  between  parental  or  other 
external  wishes  and  the  true  promptings  of  the  young  and 
unsophisticated  human  heart.  He  has  been  the  chief  ally 
of  sentiment  and  of  nature.  He  has  tilled  the  heads  of  all 
our  girls  with  what  Sir  George  Campbell  describes  off-hand 
as  *  foolish  ideas  about  love.'  He  has  preserved  us  from 
the  hateful  conventions  of  civilisation.  He  has  exalted  the 
claims  of  personal  attraction,  of  the  mysterious  native 
yearning  of  heart  for  heart,  of  the  indefinite  and  inde- 
scribable element  of  mutual  selection ;  and,  in  so  doing, 
he  has  unconsciously  proved  himself  the  best  friend  of 
human  improvement  and  the  deadliest  enemy  of  all  those 
hideous  '  social  lies  which  warp  us  from  the  living  truth.' 
His  mission  is  to  deliver  the  world  from  Dr.  Johnson  and 
Sir  George  Campbell. 

For,  strange  to  say,  it  is  the  moralists  and  the  doc- 
trinaires who  are  always  in  the  wrong :   it  is  the  senti- 


FALLING  IN  LOVE  15 

mcntalists  and  the  rebels  "svlio  are  always  in  the  right  in 
this  matter.  If  the  common  moral  maxims  of  society  could 
have  had  their  way — if  we  had  all  chosen  our  wives  and 
our  husbands,  not  for  their  beauty  or  their  manliness,  not 
for  their  eyes  or  their  moustaches,  not  for  their  attractiveness 
or  their  vivacity,  but  for  their  *  sterlinj^  qualities  of  mind  and 
character,'  we  should  now  doubtless  bo  a  miserable  race  of 
prigs  and  bookworms,  of  martinets  and  puritans,  of  nervous 
invalids  and  fueble  idiots.  It  is  because  our  young  men 
and  maidens  will  not  hearken  to  these  peimy-wise  apoph- 
thegms of  Gliallow  sophistry — because  t^'^y  often  prefer 
Borneo  awl  Juliet  to  the  *  Whole  Duty  of  Man,'  and  a 
beautiful  face  to  a  round  balance  at  Coutts's — that  we  still 
preserve  some  vitality  and  some  individual  features,  in  spite 
of  our  grinding  and  crushing  civilisation.  The  men  who 
maiTy  balances,  as  Mr.  Cialton  has  shown,  happily  die  out, 
leaving  none  to  represent  them :  the  men  who  marry 
women  they  liave  been  weak  enough  and  silly  enough  to 
fall  in  love  with,  recruit  the  race  with  fine  and  vigorous 
and  intelligent  cliildren,  fortunately  compounded  of  the 
complementary  traits  derived  from  two  fairly  contrasted 
and  mutual]  v  reinforcuig  individualities. 

I  have  spoken  throughout,  for  argument's  sake,  as 
though  the  only  interest  to  be  considered  in  the  married 
relation  were  the  interests  of  the  offspring,  and  so  ultimately 
of  the  race  at  large,  rather  than  of  the  persons  themselves 
who  enter  into  it.  But  I  do  not  quite  see  why  each  genera- 
tion should  thus  be  sacrificed  to  the  welfare  of  the  genera- 
tions that  afterwards  succeed  it.  Now  it  is  one  of  the 
strongest  points  in  favour  of  the  system  of  falling  in  love 
that  it  does,  by  common  experience  in  the  vast  majority  of 
instances,  assort  together  persons  who  subsequently  prove 
themselves  thoroughly  congenial  and  helpful  to  one  another. 
And  this  result  I  look  upon  as  one  great  proof  of  the  real 


16  FALLING  IN   LOVE 

value  and  importance  of  the  instinct.  ^lost  men  and 
women  select  for  themselves  ])urtnerH  for  life  at  an  a<?e 
when  they  know  but  little  of  tlie  world,  when  thoy  judge 
but  superficially  of  characters  and  motives,  ^vlu'n  they  still 
make  many  mistakes  in  the  conduct  of  life  and  in  the  esti- 
mation of  chances.  Yet  most  of  them  find  in  after  days 
that  they  have  really  chosen  out  of  all  the  world  one  of 
the  persons  best  adapted  by  native  idiosyncrasy  to  make 
their  joint  lives  enjoyable  and  useful.  I  make  every  allow- 
ance for  the  effects  of  habit,  for  the  growth  of  sentiment, 
for  the  gradual  approximation  of  tastes  and  sympathies ; 
but  surely,  even  so,  it  is  a  common  consciousness  with 
every  one  of  us  who  has  been  long  married,  that  wo  could 
hardly  conceivably  have  made  ourselves  happy  with  any  of 
the  partners  whom  others  have  chosen ;  and  that  we  have 
actually  made  ourselves  so  with  the  partners  we  chose  for 
ourselves  under  the  guidance  of  an  almost  unerring  native 
instinct.  Yet  adaptation  between  husband  and  wife,  so 
far  as  their  own  happiness  is  concerned,  can  have  had  com- 
paratively little  to  do  with  the  evolution  of  the  instinct,  as 
compared  with  adaptation  for  the  joint  production  of  vigorous 
and  successful  offspring.  Natural  selection  lays  almost  all 
the  stress  on  the  last  point,  and  hardly  any  at  all  upon  the 
first  one.  If,  then,  the  instinct  is  found  on  the  whole  so 
trustworthy  in  the  minor  matter,  for  which  it  has  not 
specially  been  fashioned,  how  far  more  trustworthy  and 
valuable  must  it  probably  prove  in  the  greater  matter — 
greater,  I  mean,  as  regards  the  interests  of  the  race — for 
wliich  it  has  been  mainly  or  almost  solely  developed ! 

I  do  not  doubt  that,  as  the  world  goes  on,  a  deeper  sense 
of  moral  responsibility  in  the  matter  of  marriage  will  grow 
up  among  us.  But  it  will  not  take  the  false  direction  of 
ignoring  these  our  profoundest  and  holiest  instincts.  Mar- 
riage for  money  may  go  ;  marriage  for  rank  may  go  ;  mar- 


FALLING   IN   LOVE  17 

riago  for  position  may  go ;  but  marriapje  for  love,  I  believo 
and  trust,  will  last  for  ever.  Men  in  the  future  will  prob- 
ably feel  tbat  a  union  with  their  cousins  or  near  relaaona 
is  positively  wicked  ;  that  a  union  with  those  too  like  them 
in  person  or  disposition  is  at  least  undesirable  ;  that  a  union 
based  upon  considerations  of  wealth  or  any  other  considera- 
tion save  considerations  of  immediate  natural  impidse,  ia 
base  and  dis<,'raceful.  But  to  the  end  of  time  the  will 
continue  to  feel,  in  spite  of  doctrinaires,  that  the  voice  of 
nature  is  better  far  than  the  voice  of  the  Lord  Chancellor 
or  the  Eoyal  Society ;  and  that  the  instinctive  desire  for  a 
particular  helpmate  is  a  surer  guide  for  the  ultimate  happi- 
ness, both  of  the  race  and  of  the  individual,  than  any 
amount  of  deliberate  consultation.  It  is  not  the  foolish 
fancies  of  youth  that  will  have  to  be  got  rid  of,  but  the 
foolish,  wicked,  and  mischievous  interference  of  parents  or 
outsiders. 


18  EIGHT  AND  LEFT 


BIGHT  AND  LEFT 

Adult  man  is  the  only  animal  who,  in  the  famihar 
scriptural  phrase,  '  knoAveth  the  right  hand  from  the  left.' 
This  fact  in  his  economy  goes  closely  together  with  the 
other  facts,  that  he  is  the  only  animal  on  this  sublunary 
planet  who  habitually  uses  a  laiife  and  fork,  articulate 
language,  the  art  of  cooivery,  the  common  pump,  and  the 
musical  glasses.  Ilis  right-handedness,  in  short,  is  part 
cause  and  part  effect  of  his  universal  supremacy  in  animated 
nature.  He  is  what  he  is,  to  a  great  extent,  'by  his  own 
right  hand ;  '  and  his  own  right  hand,  we  may  shrewdly 
suspect,  would  never  have  differed  at  all  from  his  left  were 
it  not  for  the  manifold  arts  and  trades  and  acti\ities  ho 
practises. 

It  was  not  always  so,  when  wild  in  woods  the  noble  savage 
ran.  Man  was  once,  in  his  childliood  on  earth,  what  Charles 
Eeade  wanted  him  again  to  be  in  his  maturer  centuries, 
ambidextrous.  And  lest  any  lady  readers  of  this  volume — 
in  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  for  example,  or  the  remoter  por- 
tions of  the  Australian  bush,  whither  the  culture  of  Girton 
and  the  familiar  knowledge  of  the  Latin  language  have  not 
yet  penetrated — should  complain  that  I  speak  with  un- 
known tongues,  I  will  further  explain  for  their  special  benefit 
that  arabidextrous  means  equally-handed,  using  the  right 
and  the  left  indiscriminately.     This,  as  Mr.  Andrew  Lang 


RIGHT  AND  LEFT  19 

rcmcarkg  in  immortal  verse,  *  was  the  manner  of  Primitive 
Man.'  Il3  never  minded  twopence  which  hand  he  used, 
as  long  as  he  got  tlie  Iruit  or  the  scalp  he  wanted.  IIow 
could  he  when  twopence  wasn't  yet  invented  ?  Ilis  manmia 
never  said  to  him  in  early  youth,  '  Why-why,'  or  *  Tom- 
tom,' as  the  case  might  he,  '  that's  the  wrong  hand  to  hold 
your  llint-scraper  in.'  He  grew  up  to  man's  estate  in 
happy  ignorance  of  such  minute  and  invidious  distinctions 
between  his  anterior  extremities.  Enough  for  him  that  his 
hands  could  grasp  the  forest  boughs  or  chip  the  stone  into 
shapely  arrows  ;  and  he  never  even  thought  in  his  innocent 
soul  which  particular  hand  he  did  it  with. 

How  can  I  malce  this  conlident  assertion,  you  ask,  about 
a  gentleman  whom  1  never  personally  saw,  and  whose 
habits  the  intervention  of  five  hundred  centuries  has  pre- 
cluded me  from  studying  at  close  quarters  ?  At  first  sight, 
you  would  suppose  the  evidence  on  such  a  point  must  be 
purely  negative.  The  reconstructive  historian  must  surely 
be  inventing  d  priori  facts,  evolved,  more  Germanico,  from 
his  inner  consciousness.  Not  so.  See  how  clever  modern 
arclucology  has  become  !  I  base  my  assertion  upon  solid 
evidence.  I  know  that  Primitive  Man  was  ambidextrous, 
because  he  wrote  and  painted  just  as  often  with  his  left  as 
with  his  right,  and  just  as  successfully. 

This  seems  once  more  a  hazardous  statement  to  make 
about  a  remote  ancestor,  in  the  age  before  the  great  glacial 
epoch  had  furrowed  the  mountains  of  Northern  Europe  ; 
but,  nevertheless,  it  is  strictly  true  and  strictly  demon- 
strable. Just  try,  as  you  read,  to  draw  with  the  forefinger 
and  thumb  of  your  right  hand  an  imaginary  human  profile 
on  the  page  on  which  these  words  are  printed.  Do  you 
observe  that  (unless  you  are  an  artist,  and  therefore 
sophisticated)  you  naturally  and  instinctively  draw  it  with 
the  face  turned  towards  your  left  shoulder  ?    Try  now  to 


20  RIGHT  AND   LEFT 

draw  it  with  the  profile  to  the  right,  and  you  will  find 
it  requires  a  far  greater  effort  of  the  thumb  and  fingers. 
The  hand  moves  of  its  own  accord  from  without  inward, 
not  from  within  outward.  Then,  again,  draw  with  your 
left  thumb  and  forefinger  another  imaginary  profile,  and 
you  will  find,  for  the  same  reason,  that  the  face  in  this  case 
looks  rightward.  Existing  savages,  and  our  own  young 
children,  whenever  they  draw  a  figure  in  profile,  be  it  of 
man  or  beast,  with  their  right  hand,  draAV  it  almost  always 
with  the  face  or  head  turned  to  the  left,  in  accordance  with 
this  natural  human  instinct.  Their  doing  so  is  a  test  of 
their  perfect  right-handedness. 

But  Primitive  Man,  or  at  any  rate  the  most  primitive 
men  we  know  personally,  the  carvers  of  the  figures  from 
the  French  bone-caves,  drew  men  and  beasts,  on  bone  or 
mammoth-tusk,  turned  either  way  indiscriminately.  The 
inference  is  obvious.  They  must  have  been  ambidextrous. 
Only  ambidextrous  people  draw  so  at  the  present  day ;  and 
indeed  to  scrape  a  figure  otherwise  with  a  sharp  fiint  on  a 
piece  of  bone  or  tooth  or  mammoth-tusk  would,  even  for  a 
practised  hand,  be  comparatively  difficult. 

I  have  begun  my  consideration  of  rights  and  lefts  with 
this  one  very  clear  historical  datum,  because  it  is  interest- 
ing to  be  able  to  say  with  tolerable  certainty  that  there 
really  was  a  period  in  our  life  as  a  species  when  man  in 
the  lump  was  ambidextrous.  Why  and  how  did  he  become 
otherwise?  This  question  is  not  only  of  importance  in 
itself,  as  helping  to  explain  the  origin  and  source  of  man's 
supremacy  in  nature — his  tool-using  faculty — but  it  is  also 
of  interest  from  the  light  it  casts  on  that  fallacy  of  poor 
Charles  Eeade's  already  alluded  to — that  we  ought  all  of  us 
in  this  respect  to  hark  back  to  the  condition  of  savages.  I 
think  when  we  have  seen  the  reasons  which  make  civilised 
man  now  right-handed,  we  shall  also  see  why  it  would  be 


RIGHT  AND  LEFT  21 

highly  undesirable  for  him  to  return,  after  so  many  ages 
of  practice,  to  the  condition  of  his  undeveloped  stone-age 
ancestors. 

The  very  beginning  of  our  modern  riglit-hand(  Iness 
goes  back,  indeed,  to  the  most  primitive  savagery.  Why 
did  one  hand  ever  come  to  be  different  in  use  and  function 
from  another  ?  The  answer  is,  because  man,  in  spite  of  all 
appearances  to  the  contrary,  is  really  one-sided.  Externally, 
indeed,  his  congenital  one-sidedness  doesn't  show ;  but 
it  shows  internally.  We  all  of  us  know,  in  spite  of 
Sganarelle's  assertion  to  the  contrary,  that  the  apex  of  the 
heart  inclines  to  the  left  side,  and  that  the  liver  and  other 
internal  organs  show  a  generous  disregard  for  strict  and 
formal  symmetry.  In  this  irregular  distribution  of  those 
human  organs  which  polite  society  agrees  to  ignore,  we  get 
the  clue  to  the  irregularity  of  right  and  left  in  the  human 
arm,  and  finally  even  the  particular  direction  of  the  printed 
letters  now  before  you. 

For  primitive  man  did  not  belong  to  polite  society.  His 
manners  were  strikingly  deficient  in  that  repose  wliich 
stamps  the  caste  of  Vere  de  Vere.  When  primitive  man 
felt  the  tender  passion  steal  over  his  soul,  he  lay  in  wait  in 
the  bush  for  the  Phyllis  or  Daphne  whose  charms  had  in- 
spired his  heart  with  young  desire ;  and  when  she  passed 
his  hiding-place,  in  maiden  meditation,  fancy  free,  he  felled 
her  with  a  club,  caught  her  tight  by  the  hair  of  her  head, 
and  dragged  her  off  in  triumph  to  his  cave  or  his  rock- 
shelter.  (Marriage  by  capture,  the  learned  call  this  simple 
mode  of  primeval  courtship.)  When  he  found  some 
Btrephon  or  Damoetas  rival  him  in  the  affections  of  the 
dusky  sex,  he  and  that  rival  fought  the  matter  out  like  two 
bulls  in  a  field  ;  and  the  victor  and  his  PliyHis  supped  that 
evening  off  the  roasted  remains  of  the  vanquished  suitor. 
I  don't  say  these  habits  and  manners  were  pretty  ;  but  they 


22  EIGHT  AND  LEFT 

were  the  custom  of  the  time,  and  there's  no  good  denying 
them. 

Now,  Primitive  Man,  being  thus  by  nature  a  fighting 
animal,  fought  for  the  most  part  at  first  with  his  great 
canine  teeth,  his  nails,  and  his  fists  ;  till  in  process  of  time 
he  added  to  these  early  and  natural  weapons  the  further 
persuasions  of  a  club  or  shillelagh.  He  also  fought,  as 
Darwin  has  very  conclusively  shown,  in  the  main  for  the 
possession  of  the  ladies  of  his  kind,  against  other  members 
of  his  own  sex  and  species.  And  if  you  fight,  you  soon 
learn  to  protect  the  most  exposed  and  vulnerable  portion  of 
your  body ;  or,  if  you  don't,  natural  selection  manages  it 
for  you,  by  killing  you  off  as  an  immediate  consequence. 
To  the  boxer,  wrestler,  or  hand-to-hand  combatant,  that 
most  vulnerable  portion  is  undoubtedly  the  heart.  A  hard 
blow,  well  delivered  on  the  left  breast,  will  easily  kill,  or  at 
any  rate  stun,  even  a  very  strong  man.  Hence,  from  a 
very  early  period,  men  have  used  the  right  hand  to  fight 
with,  and  have  employed  the  left  arm  chiefly  to  cover  the 
heart  and  to  parry  a  blow  aimed  at  that  specially  vulnerable 
region.  And  when  weapons  of  offence  and  defence  super- 
sede mere  fists  and  teeth,  it  is  the  right  hand  that  grasps 
the  spear  or  sword,  while  the  left  holds  over  the  heart  for 
defence  the  shield  or  buclder. 

From  this  simple  origin,  then,  the  whole  vast  difference 
of  right  and  left  in  civilised  life  takes  its  beginning.  At 
first,  no  doubt,  the  superiority  of  the  right  hand  was  only 
felt  in  the  matter  of  fighting.  But  that  alone  gave  it  a 
distmct  pull,  and  paved  the  way,  at  last,  for  its  supremacy 
elsewhere.  For  when  weapons  came  into  use,  the  habitual 
employment  of  the  right  hand  to  grasp  the  spear,  sword,  or 
knife  made  the  nerves  and  muscles  of  the  right  side  far 
more  obedient  to  the  control  of  the  will  than  those  of  the 
left.     The  dexterity  thus  acquired  by  the  right— see  how 


RIGHT  AND  LEFT  23 

the  very  word  *  dexterity'  implies  this  fact— made  it  more 
natural  for  the  early  hunter  and  artificer  to  employ  the 
same  hand  preferentially  in  the  manufacture  of  Hint 
hatchets,  bows  and  arrows,  and  in  all  the  other  manifold 
activities  of  savage  life.  It  was  the  hand  with  which  he 
grasped  his  weapon  ;  it  was  therefore  the  hand  with  which 
he  chipped  it.  To  the  very  end,  however,  the  right  hand 
remains  especially  '  the  hand  in  whicli  you  hold  your 
knife  ; '  and  that  is  exactly  how  our  own  children  to  this 
day  decide  the  question  which  is  which,  when  they  begin 
to  know  their  right  hand  from  their  left  for  practical  pur- 
poses. 

A  difference  like  this,  once  set  up,  implies  thereafter 
innumerable  other  differences  which  naturally  flow  from  it. 
Some  of  them  are  extremely  remote  and  derivative.  Take, 
for  example,  the  case  of  writing  and  printing.  Why  do 
these  run  from  left  to  right  ?  At  first  sight  such  a  practice 
seems  clearly  contrary  to  the  instinctive  tendency  I  noticed 
above — the  tendency  to  draw  from  right  to  left,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  natural  sweep  of  the  hand  and  arm.  And, 
mdced,  it  is  a  fact  tliat  ah  early  writing  habitually  touk 
the  opposite  direction  from  that  which  is  now  universal  in 
western  countries.  Every  schoolboy  knows,  for  instance 
(or  at  least  he  would  if  he  came  up  to  the  proper  Macaulay 
standard),  that  Hebrew  is  written  from  right  to  left,  and 
that  each  book  begins  at  the  wrong  cover.  The  reason  is 
thai  words,  and  letters,  and  hieroglyphics  were  originally 
carved,  scratched,  or  incised,  instead  of  being  written  with 
coloured  ink,  and  the  hand  was  thus  allowed  to  follow  its 
natural  bent,  and  to  proceed,  as  we  all  do  in  naive  drawing, 
with  a  free  curve  from  the  right  leftward. 

Nevertheless,  the  very  same  fact — that  we  use  the  right 
hand  alone  m  writing — made  the  letters  run  the  opposite 
way  in  the  end  ;  and  the  change  was  due  to  the  use  of  ink 


24  RIGHT  AND  LEFT 

and  othei'  pigments  for  staining  papjTus,  parchment,  or 
paper.  If  the  hand  in  this  case  moved  from  right  to  left  it 
would  of  course  smear  what  it  had  aheady  written  ;  and  to 
prevent  such  untidy  smudging  of  the  words,  the  order  of 
writing  was  reversed  from  left  right  ward.  The  use  of  wax 
tahlets  also,  no  douht,  helped  forward  the  revolution,  for  in 
this  case,  too,  the  hand  would  cover  and  ruh  out  the  words 
written. 

The  strict  dependence  of  writing,  indeed,  upon  the 
material  employed  is  nowhere  better  shown  than  in  the 
case  of  the  Assyrian  cuneiform  inscriptions.  The  ordinary 
substitute  for  cream-laid  note  in  the  Euphrates  valley  in  its 
palmy  days  was  a  clay  or  terra-cotta  tablet,  on  which  the 
words  to  be  recorded — usually  a  deed  of  sale  or  something 
of  the  sort — were  impressed  while  it  was  wet  and  then 
baked  in,  solid.  And  the  method  of  impressing  them  was 
very  simple  ;  the  workman  merely  pressed  the  end  of  his 
graver  or  wedge  into  the  moist  clay,  thus  giving  rise  to 
triangular  marks  whic>  were  arranged  in  the  shapes  of 
various  letters.  When  alabaster,  or  any  other  hard  material, 
was  substituted  for  clay,  the  sculptor  imitated  these  natural 
dabs  or  triangular  imprints  ;  and  that  was  the  origin  of 
those  mysterious  and  very  learned-looking  cuneiforms. 
This,  I  admit,  is  a  palpable  digression ;  but  masmuch  as 
it  throws  an  indirect  light  on  the  simple  reasons  which 
sometimes  bring  about  great  results,  I  hold  it  not  wholly 
alien  to  the  present  serious  philosophical  inquiry. 

Printing,  in  turn,  necessarily  follows  the  rule  of  writmg, 
so  that  in  fact  the  order  of  letters  and  words  on  this  page 
depends  ultimately  upon  the  remote  fact  that  i)rimitive  man 
had  to  use  his  right  hand  to  deliver  a  blow,  and  his  left  to 
parry,  or  to  guard  his  heart. 

Some  curious  and  hardly  noticeable  results  flow  once 
more  from  this  order  of  writing  from  left  to  right.    You 


RIGHT  AND  LEFT  25 

will  find,  if  you  watcli  yourself  closely,  that  in  examining  a 
landscape,  or  the  view  from  a  liill-top,  your  eye  naturally 
ranges  from  left  to  right ;  and  that  you  begin  your  survey, 
as  you  would  begin  reading  a  page  of  print,  from  the  left- 
hand  corner.  Apparently,  the  now  almost  instinctive  act 
of  reading  (for  Dogberry  was  right  after  all,  for  the  civilised 
infant)  has  accustomed  our  eyes  to  this  particular  move- 
ment, and  has  made  it  especially  natural  when  we  are  try- 
ing to  *  read '  or  take  in  at  a  glance  the  meaning  of  any 
complex  and  varied  total. 

In  the  matter  of  pictures,  I  notice,  the  correlation  has 
even  gone  a  step  farther.  Not  only  do  we  usually  take  in 
the  episodes  of  a  painting  from  left  to  right,  but  the 
painter  definitely  and  deliberately  intends  us  so  to  take  them 
in.  For  wherever  two  or  throe  distinct  episodes  in 
succession  are  represented  on  a  single  plane  in  the  same 
picture — as  happens  often  in  early  art — they  are  invariably 
represented  in  the  precise  order  of  the  words  on  a  written 
or  printed  page,  beginning  at  the  upper  left-hand  corner, 
and  ending  at  the  lower  right-hand  angle.  I  first  noticed 
this  curious  extension  of  the  common  principle  in  the 
mediaeval  frescoes  of  the  Campo  Santo  at  Pisa  ;  and  I  have 
since  verified  it  by  observations  on  many  other  pictures 
elsewhere,  both  ancient  and  modern.  The  Campo  Santo, 
however,  forms  an  exceptionally  good  museum  of  such 
story-telling  frescoes  by  various  painters,  as  almost  every 
picture  consists  of  several  successive  episodes.  The 
famous  Benozzo  Gozzoli,  for  example,  of  Noah's  Vineyard 
represents  on  a  single  plane  all  the  stages  in  that  earliest 
drama  of  intoxication,  from  the  first  act  of  gathering  the 
grapes  on  the  top  left,  to  the  scandalised  lady,  the  vcrgognosa 
di  Pisa,  who  covers  her  face  with  her  hands  in  shocked 
horror  at  the  patriarch's  disgrace  in  the  lower  right-hand 
corner. 


26  RIGHT  AND  LEFT 

Observe,  too,  that  the  very  conditions  of  technique 
demand  tliis  order  almost  as  rij^orously  in  painting  as  in 
■writing.  1  or  the  painter  will  naturally  so  work  as  not  to 
smudge  over  what  he  has  already  painted  :  and  he  will  also 
naturally  begin  with  the  earliest  episode  in  the  story  he 
unfolds,  proceeding  to  the  others  in  due  succession.  From 
which  two  principles  it  necessarily  results  that  he  will 
begin  at  the  upper  left,  and  end  at  the  lower  right-hand 
corner. 

I  have  skipped  lightly,  I  admit,  over  a  considerable 
interval  between  primitive  man  and  Benozzo  Gozzoli. 
But  consider  further  that  during  all  that  time  the  uses  of 
the  right  and  left  hand  were  becoming  by  gradual  degrees 
each  day  still  further  differentiated  and  specialised.  In- 
numerable trades,  occupations,  and  habits  imply  ever- 
widening  differences  in  the  way  we  use  them.  It  is  not 
the  right  hand  alone  that  has  undergone  an  education  in 
this  respect :  the  loft,  too,  though  subordinate,  has  still  its 
own  special  functions  to  perform.  If  the  savage  chips  his 
flints  with  a  blow  of  the  right,  he  holds  the  core,  or  main 
mass  of  stone  from  which  he  strikes  it,  firmly  with  his  loft. 
If  one  hand  is  specially  devoted  to  the  knife,  the  other 
grasps  the  fork  to  make  up  for  it.  In  almost  every  act  we 
do  with  both  hands,  each  has  a  separate  office  to  wdiich  it 
is  best  fitted.  Take,  for  example,  so  simple  a  matter  as 
buttonmg  one's  coat,  where  a  curious  distinction  between 
the  habits  of  the  sexes  enables  us  to  test  the  principle  wdth 
ease  and  certainty.  Men's  clothes  are  always  made  with 
the  buttons  on  the  right  side  and  the  button-holes  on  the 
left.  Women's,  on  the  contrary,  are  always  made  with 
the  buttons  on  the  left  side,  and  the  button-holes  on  the 
right.  (The  occult  reason  for  this  curious  distinction, 
which  has  long  engaged  the  attention  of  philosophers,  has 
never  yet  been  discovered,  but  it  is  probably  to  be  accounted 


RIGUT  AND  LI:FT  27 

for  by  the  pGi'vcrsity  of  women.)  Well,  if  a  man  tries  to 
put  on  a  woman's  waterproof,  or  a  woman  to  put  on  a  man's 
ulster,  each  will  find  that  neither  hand  is  readily  able  to 
perform  the  part  of  the  other.  A  man,  in  huttonin;^,  p^raspa 
the  button  in  his  ri^jht  hand,  pushes  it  throu,u;h  with  his 
ri;^lit  thumb,  holds  the  button-hole  open  with  his  loft,  and 
pulls  all  strai.u:ht  with  his  right  fore-finger.  Reverse  the 
sides,  and  both  hands  at  once  seem  equally  helpless. 

It  is  curious  to  note  how  many  little  peculiarities  of 
dress  or  manufacture  are  equally  necessitated  by  this  prime 
distinction  of  right  and  left.  Here  are  a  very  few  of  them, 
which  the  reader  can  indefinitely  increase  for  himself.  (I 
leave  out  of  consideration  obvious  cases  like  boots  and 
gloves :  to  insult  that  proverbially  intelligent  person's  in- 
telligence with  those  were  surely  unpardonable.)  A  scarf 
habitually  tied  in  a  sailor's  knot  acquires  one  long  side,  left, 
and  one  short  one,  right,  from  the  way  it  is  manipulated  by 
the  right  hand  ;  if  it  were  tied  by  the  left,  the  relations 
would  be  reversed.  The  spiral  of  corkscrews  and  of 
ordinary  screws  turned  by  hand  goes  in  accordance  with 
the  natural  twist  of  the  right  hand  :  try  to  drive  in  an 
imaginary  corkscrew  with  the  right  hand,  the  opposite  way, 
and  you  will  see  how  utterly  awkward  and  clumsv  is  the 
motion.  The  strap  of  the  flap  that  covers  the  keyhole  in 
trunks  and  portmanteaus  always  has  its  fixed  side  over  to 
the  right,  and  its  buckle  to  the  left ;  in  this  way  only  can  it 
be  conveniently  buckled  by  a  right-handed  person.  The 
hands  of  watches  and  the  numbers  of  dial-faced  barometers 
run  from  left  to  right ;  this  is  a  peculiarity  dependent  upon 
the  left  to  right  system  of  writing.  A  servant  offers  you 
dishes  from  the  left  side  :  you  can't  so  readily  help  yourself 
from  the  right,  unless  left-handed.  Schopenhauer  de- 
spaired of  the  German  race,  because  it  could  never  be 
taught  like  the  English  to  keep  to  the  right  side  of  the 
3 


28  RIGHT  AND  LEIT 

pavement  in  walkiiir,'.  A  sword  is  worn  at  the  left  hip  :  a 
handkerchief  is  carried  in  the  right  pocket,  if  at  tlie  side  ; 
in  the  left,  if  in  the  coat-tails :  in  either  case  for  the  right 
hand  to  get  at  it  most  easily.  A  watch-pocket  is  made  in 
the  left  breast ;  a  pocket  for  railway  tickets  halfway  down 
the  right  side.  Try  to  reverse  any  one  of  these  simple 
actions,  and  you  will  see  at  once  that  they  are  imme- 
diately implied  in  the  very  fact  of  our  original  right- 
handedness. 

And  herein,  I  think,  we  find  the  true  answer  to  Charles 
Eeade's  mistaken  notion  of  the  advantages  of  ambidexterity. 
You  couldn't  make  both  hands  do  everything  alike  without 
a  considerable  loss  of  time,  effort,  efficiency,  and  convenience. 
Each  hand  learns  to  do  its  own  work  and  to  do  it  well ;  if 
you  made  it  do  the  other  hand's  into  the  bargain,  it  would 
have  a  great  deal  more  to  learn,  and  we  should  find  it 
difficult  even  then  to  prevent  specialisation.  We  should 
have  to  make  things  deliberately  different  for  the  two  hands 
— to  have  rights  and  lefts  in  everything,  as  we  have  them 
now  in  boots  and  gloves — or  else  one  hand  must  inevitably 
gain  the  supremacy.  Sword-handles,  shears,  surgical  instru- 
ments, and  hundreds  of  other  things  have  to  be  made  right- 
handed,  while  palettes  and  a  few  like  subsidiary  objects  are 
adapted  to  the  left ;  in  each  case  for  a  perfectly  suflicient 
reason.  You  can't  upset  all  this  without  causing  confusion. 
More  than  that,  the  division  of  labour  thus  brought  about  is 
certainly  a  gain  to  those  who  possess  it :  for  if  it  were  not 
so,  the  ambidextrous  races  would  have  beaten  the  dextro- 
sinistrals  in  the  struggle  for  existence  ;  whereas  we  Imow 
that  the  exact  opposite  has  been  the  case.  Man's  special 
use  of  the  right  hand  is  one  of  his  points  of  superiority  to 
the  brutes.  If  ever  his  right  hand  should  forget  its  cun- 
ning, his  supremacy  would  indeed  begin  to  totter.  Depend 
upon  it.  Nature  is  wiser  than  even  Charles  Eeade.      What 


RIGHT  AND  LEFT  29 

bHg  finds  most  useful  in  the  low^  run  must  certainly  have 
many  good  pomts  to  recommend  it. 

And  this  last  consitleration  suggests  another  aspect  of 
right  and  left  which  must  not  be  passed  over  without  ono 
word  in  this  brief  survey  of  the  philosophy  of  the  subject. 
The  superiority  of  the  right  caused  it  early  to  be  regarded 
as  the  fortunate,  lucky,  and  trusty  hand  ;  the  inferiority  of 
the  left  caused  it  equally  to  bo  considered  as  ill-omened, 
unlucky,  and,  in  one  expressive  word,  sinister.  Hence  como 
innumerable  phrases  and  superstitions.  It  is  the  right  hand 
of  friendship  that  we  always  grasp ;  it  is  witli  our  own 
right  hand  tliat  we  vhidicato  our  honour  against  sinister 
suspicions.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  '  over  the  left '  that 
we  believe  a  doubtful  or  incredible  statement ;  a  left-handed 
compliment  or  a  left-handed  marriage  carry  their  own  con- 
demnation with  them.  On  the  right  hand  of  the  host  is 
the  seat  of  honour  ;  it  is  to  the  left  that  the  goats  of  eccle- 
siastical controversy  are  invariably  relegated.  The  very 
notions  of  the  right  hand  and  ethical  right  have  got  mixed 
up  inextricably  in  every  language  :  droit  and  la  droitc  dis- 
play it  in  French  as  nuich  as  right  and  the  right  in  English. 
But  to  be  gauche  is  merely  to  be  awkward  and  clumsy ; 
while  to  be  right  is  something  far  higher  and  more  im- 
portant. 

So  unlucky,  indeed,  does  the  left  hand  at  last  become 
that  merely  to  mention  it  is  an  evil  omen ;  and  so  the 
Greeks  refused  to  use  the  true  old  Greek  word  for  left  at 
all,  and  preferred  euphemistically  to  describe  it  as  cuony- 
mos,  the  well-named  or  happy-omened.  Our  own  left 
seems  equally  to  mean  the  hand  that  is  left  after  the  right 
has  been  mentioned,  or,  in  short,  the  other  one.  Many 
things  which  are  lucky  if  seen  on  the  right  are  fateful 
omens  if  seen  to  leftward.  On  the  other  hand,  if  you  spill 
the  salt,  you  propitiate  desti'^vby  tossing  a  pinch  of  it  over 


30  RIGHT  AND  LEFT 

the  left  shoulder.  A  munloror's  left  Imnd  is  said  by  f^ood 
authorities  to  be  an  excellent  thini?  to  do  ma;,'ic  with ;  but 
here  I  cannot  speak  from  personal  experience.  Nor  do  I 
know  why  the  vvcdding-rin^'  is  worn  on  the  left  hand; 
th()u;,'h  it  is  si;^'nilicant,  at  any  rate,  that  the  mark  of  slavery 
should  be  put  by  the  man  with  his  own  rii,'lit  npon  the 
iiifcrior  mond)er  of  the  weaker  vessel.  Stron.ijf-mindcd 
ladies  may  jc^et  up  an  a^ntalion  if  they  like  to  alter  this 
gross  injustice  of  the  centuries. 

One  curious  minor  application  of  li'-^hts  and  lefts  is  tho 
rule  of  the  road  as  it  exists  in  Eiij^dand.  ITow  it  arose  I 
can't  say,  any  more  than  I  can  say  why  a  lady  sits  her  side- 
saddle to  the  left.  Coachmen,  to  be  sure,  are  quite  unani- 
mous that  the  leftward  route  enables  them  to  see  how  close 
they  are  passing  to  another  carriage  ;  but,  as  all  continental 
authority  is  equally  convinced  the  other  way,  I  make  no 
doubt  this  is  a  mere  illusion  of  long-continued  custom.  It 
is  curious,  however,  that  the  English  usage,  having  once 
obtained  in  these  islands,  has  influenced  railways,  not  only 
in  Britain,  but  over  all  Europe.  Trains,  like  carriages,  go 
to  the  left  when  they  pass ;  and  this  habit,  quite  natural 
in  I'higland,  was  transplanted  by  the  early  engineers  to  tho 
Continent,  where  ordinary  carriages,  of  course,  go  to  the 
right.  In  America,  to  be  sure,  the  trains  also  go  right  like 
the  carriages ;  but  then,  those  Americans  have  such  a 
curiously  un-English  way  of  being  strictly  consistent  and 
logical  in  their  doings.  In  Britain  we  should  have  com- 
promised the  matter  by  gomg  sometimes  one  way  and  some- 
times the  other 


EVOLUTION  31 


EVOLUTION 

Everybody  nowadays  talks  about  evolution.  Like  cloo- 
tricity,  the  cholera  ^ci'm,  woman's  rights,  the  great  mining 
boom,  and  the  Eastern  Question,  it  is  •  in  the  air.'  It  per- 
vades society  everywliere  with  its  sul)tle  essence  ;  it  infects 
small-talk  with  its  familiar  catchwords  and  its  slang  phrases ; 
it  even  permeates  that  last  stronghold  of  rampant  Pliilis- 
tinism,  the  third  leader  in  the  penny  papers.  Everybody 
believes  he  knows  all  about  it,  and  discusses  it  as  glibly  in 
his  everyday  conversation  as  he  discusses  the  points  of  race- 
horses he  has  never  seen,  the  charms  of  peeresses  ho  has 
never  spoken  to,  and  the  demerits  of  authors  he  has  never 
read.  Everybody  is  aware,  in  a  dim  and  nebulous  semi- 
conscious fashion,  that  it  was  all  invented  by  the  late  Mr. 
Darwin,  and  reduced  to  a  system  by  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer — 
don't  you  know  ? — and  a  lot  more  of  those  scientific  fellows. 
It  is  generally  understood  in  the  best-infonned  circles  that 
evolutionism  consists  for  the  most  part  in  a  belief  about 
nature  at  large  essentially  similar  to  that  applied  by  Topsy 
to  her  own  origin  and  early  history.  It  is  conceived,  in 
short,  that  most  things  'growed.'  Especially  is  it  known 
that  in  the  opinion  of  the  evolutionists  as  a  body  we  are 
all  of  us  ultimately  descended  from  men  with  tails,  who 
were  the  final  offspring  and  improved  edition  of  the  common 
gorilla.  That,  very  briefly  put,  is  the  popular  conception 
of  the  various  points  in  the  great  modern  evolutionary 
programme. 


32  EVOLUTION 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  inform  the  intelligent  reader, 
■who  of  course  ditTors  fiindiimcntally  from  that  inferior  class  of 
human  beings  known  to  nil  of  us  in  our  own  minds  as  '  other 
people,'  that  almost  every  point  in  the  catalogue  thus  briefly 
enumerated  is  a  popular  fallacy  of  the  wildest  description. 
Mr.  Darwin  did  not  invent  evolution  any  more  than  George 
Stephenson  invented  the  steam-engii'j,  or  Mr.  Edison  the 
electric  telegraph.  We  are  not  descended  from  men  with 
tails,  any  more  than  we  are  descended  from  Indian  elephants. 
There  is  no  evidence  that  we  have  anything  in  particular 
more  than  the  remotest  fiftieth  cousinship  with  our  poor 
relation  the  West  African  gorilla.  Science  is  not  in  search 
of  a  '  missing  link  ' ;  few  links  are  anywhere  missing,  and 
those  are  for  the  most  part  wholly  unimportant  ones.  If 
we  found  the  imaginary  link  in  question,  he  would  not  be 
a  monkey,  nor  yet  in  any  way  a  tailed  man.  And  so  forth 
generally  through  the  whole  !st  cf  popular  beliefs  and 
current  fallacies  as  to  the  real  meaning  of  evolutionary 
teaching.  Whatever  most  people  think  evolutionary  is  for 
the  most  part  a  pure  parody  of  the  evolutionist's  opinion. 

But  a  more  serious  error  than  all  these  pervades  what 
we  may  call  the  drawing-room  view  of  the  evolutionist 
theory.  So  fiir  as  Society  with  a  big  initial  is  concerned, 
evolutionism  first  began  to  be  talked  about,  and  therefore 
known  (for  Society  does  not  read ;  it  listens,  or  rather  it 
overhears  and  catches  fragmentary  echoes)  when  Darwin 
published  his  *  Origin  of  Species.'  That  great  book  con- 
sisted simply  of  a  theory  as  to  the  causes  which  led  to  the 
distinctions  of  kind  between  plants  and  animals.  With 
evolution,  at  large  it  had  nothing  to  do  ;  it  took  for  granted 
the  origin  of  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  planets  and  comets,  the 
earth  and  all  that  in  it  is,  the  sea  and  the  dry  land,  the 
mountains  and  the  valleys,  nay  even  life  itself  in  the  crude 
form,  everything  in  fact,  save  the  one  point  of  the  various 


EVOLUTION  33 

types  and  species  of  living  beings.  Long  before  Darwin's 
book  appeared  evolution  had  been  a  recognised  force  in  the 
moving  world  of  science  and  philosophy.  Kant  and  Laplace 
had  worked  out  the  development  of  suns  and  earths  from 
white-hot  star-clouds.  Lyell  had  worked  out  the  evolution 
of  the  earth's  surface  to  its  present  highly  complex  geo- 
graphical condition.  Lamarck  had  worked  out  the  descent 
of  plants  and  animals  from  a  connnon  ancestor  by  slow 
modification.  Herbert  Spencer  had  worked  out  the  growth 
of  mind  from  its  simplest  beginnings  to  its  highest  outcome 
in  human  thought. 

But  Society,  like  Gallio,  cared  nothing  for  all  these 
things.  The  evolutionary  principles  had  never  been  put 
into  a  single  big  book,  asked  for  at  Mudie's,  and  permitted 
to  lie  on  the  drawing-room  table  side  by  side  with  the  last 
new  novel  and  the  last  fat  volume  of  scandalous  court 
memoirs.  Therefore  Society  ignored  them  and  knew  them 
not ;  the  word  evolution  scarcely  entered  at  all  as  yet  into 
its  polite  and  refined  dinner-table  vocabulary.  It  recognised 
only  the  *  Darwinian  theory,'  *  natural  selection,'  *  the  miss- 
ing link,'  and  the  belief  that  men  were  merely  monkeys 
who  had  lost  their  tails,  presumably  by  sitting  upon  them. 
To  the  world  at  large  that  learned  Mr.  Darwdn  had  invented 
and  patented  the  entire  business,  including  descent  with 
modification,  if  such  notions  ever  occurred  at  all  to  the 
world-at-large's  speculative  intelligence. 

Now,  evolutionism  is  really  a  thing  of  far  deeper  growth 
and  older  antecedents  than  this  easy,  superficial  drawing- 
room  view  would  lead  us  to  imagine.  It  is  a  very  ancient 
and  respectable  theory  indeed,  and  it  has  an  immense 
variety  of  minor  developments.  I  am  not  going  to  push  it 
back,  in  the  fashionable  modern  scientific  manner,  to  the 
vague  and  indefinite  hints  in  our  old  friend  Lucretius.  The 
great  original  Roman  poet — the  only  original  poet  in  the 


34  EVOLUTION 

Latin  language — did  indeed  hit  out  for  himself  a  very  good 
rough  working  sketch  of  a  sort  of  nebulous  and  shapeless 
evolutionism.  It  was  bold,  it  was  consistent,  for  its  time  it 
was  wonderful.  But  Lucretius's  philosophy,  like  all  the 
philosophies  of  the  older  world,  was  a  mere  speculative  idea, 
a  fancy  picture  of  the  development  of  things,  not  dependent 
upon  observation  of  facts  at  all,  but  wholly  evolved,  like  the 
German  thmker's  camel,  out  of  its  author's  own  pregnant 
inner  consciousness.  The  Eoman  poet  would  no  doubt 
have  built  an  excellent  superstructure  if  he  had  only 
possessed  a  little  straw  to  make  his  bricks  of.  As  it  was, 
however,  scientific  brick-making  being  still  in  its  infancy, 
he  could  only  construct  in  a  day  a  shadowy  Aladdin's  palace 
of  pure  fanciful  Epicurean  phantasms,  an  imaginary  world 
of  imaginary  atoms,  fortuitously  concurring  out  of  void 
chaos  into  an  orderly  universe,  as  though  by  miracle.  It  is 
not  thus  that  systems  arise  which  regenerate  the  tliought 
of  humanity ;  he  who  would  build  for  all  time  must  make 
sure  first  of  a  solid  foundation,  and  then  use  sound  bricks 
in  place  of  the  airy  nothings  of  metaphysical  speculation. 

It  was  in  the  last  century  that  the  evolutionary  idea 
really  began  to  take  form  and  shape  in  the  separate  con- 
ceptions of  Kant,  Laplace,  Lamarck,  and  Erasmus  Darwin. 
These  were  the  true  founders  of  our  modern  evolutionism 
Charles  Darwin  and  Herbert  Spencer  were  the  Joshuas  who 
led  the  chosen  people  into  the  land  which  more  than  one 
venturous  Moses  had  already  dimly  descried  afar  off  from 
the  Pisgah  top  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

Kant  and  Laplace  came  first  in  time,  as  astronomy 
comes  first  in  logical  order.  Stars  and  suns,  and  planets 
and  satellites,  necessarily  precede  in  development  plants 
and  animals.  You  can  have  no  cabbages  without  a  world 
to  grow  them  in.  The  science  of  the  stars  was  therefore 
reduced  to  comparative  system  and  order,  while  the  sciences 


EVOLUTION  35 

of  life,  and  mind,  and  matter  were  still  a  hopeless  and  inex- 
tricable muddle.  It  was  no  wonder,  then,  that  the  evolution 
of  the  heavenly  bodies  should  h  xve  been  clearly  apprehended 
and  definitely  formulated  while  the  evolution  of  the  earth's 
crust  was  still  imperfectly  imderstood,  and  the  evolution  of 
living  beings  was  only  tentatively  and  hypothotically  hinted 
at  in  a  timid  whisper. 

In  the  beginning,  say  the  astronomical  evolutionists, 
not  only  this  world,  but  all  the  other  worlds  in  the  universe , 
existed  potentially,  as  the  poet  justly  remarks,  in  '  a  haze  of 
fluid  light,'  a  vast  nebula  of  enormous  extent  and  almost 
mconceivable  material  thinness.  The  world  arose  out  of  a 
sort  of  primitive  world-gruel.  The  matter  of  Avhich  it  was 
composed  was  gas,  of  such  an  extraordinary  and  unimagin- 
able gasiness  that  millions  of  cubic  miles  of  it  might  easily 
be  compressed  into  a  common  antibilious  pill-box.  The 
pill-box  itself,  in  fact,  is  the  net  result  of  a  prolonged 
secular  condensation  of  myriads  of  such  enormous  cubes  of 
this  primajval  matter.  Slowly  setting  around  common 
centres,  however,  in  anticipation  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton's 
gravitative  theories,  the  fluid  haze  gradually  collected  into 
suns  and  stars,  whose  light  and  heat  is  presumably  due  to 
the  clashing  together  of  their  component  atoms  as  they  fall 
perpetually  towards  the  central  mass.  Just  as  in  a  burning 
candle  the  impact  of  the  oxygen  atoms  in  the  air  against 
the  carbon  and  hydrogen  atoms  in  the  melted  and  rarefied 
wax  or  tallow  produces  the  light  and  heat  of  the  fiame,  so 
m  nebula  or  sun  the  impact  of  the  various  gravitating  atoms 
one  against  the  other  produces  the  light  and  heat  by  whose 
aid  we  are  enabled  to  see  and  know  those  distant  bodies. 
The  universe,  according  to  this  now  fashionable  nebular 
theory,  began  as  a  single  vast  ocean  of  matter  of  immense 
tenuity,  spread  all  alike  over  all  space  as  far  as  nowhere, 
and  comparatively  little  different  within  itself  when  looked 


86  EVOLUTION 

at  side  by  side  with  its  own  final  historical  outcome.  In 
Mr.  Spencer's  perspicuous  phrase,  evolution  in  this  aspect 
is  a  chanrje  from  the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous, 
from  the  incoherent  to  the  coherent,  and  from  the  indefinite 
to  the  definite  condition.  Difficult  words  at  first  to  appre- 
hend, no  doubt,  and  therefore  to  many  people,  as  to  Mv. 
Matthew  Arnold,  very  repellent,  but  full  of  meaning,  lucidity, 
and  suggestiveness,  if  only  we  once  take  the  trouble  fairly 
and  squarely  to  understand  them. 

Every  sun  and  every  star  thus  formed  is  for  ever 
gathering  in  the  hem  of  its  outer  robe  upon  itself,  for  ever 
radiating  off  its  light  and  heat  into  surrounding  space,  and 
for  ever  growing  denser  and  colder  as  it  sets  slowly  towards 
its  centre  of  gravity.  Our  own  sun  and  solar  system  may 
be  taken  as  good  typical  working  examples  of  how  the 
stars  thus  constantly  shrink  into  smaller  and  ever  smaller 
dimensions  around  their  own  fixed  centre.  Naturally,  we 
know  more  about  our  own  solar  system  than  about  any 
other  in  our  own  universe,  and  it  also  possesses  for  us  a 
greater  practical  and  personal  interest  than  any  outside 
portion  of  the  galaxy.  Nobody  can  pretend  to  be  profoimdly 
immersed  in  the  internal  affairs  of  Sirius  or  of  Alpha 
Centauri.  A  fiery  revolution  in  the  belt  of  Orion  would 
affect  us  less  than  a  passing  finger-ache  in  a  certain  single 
terrestrial  baby  of  our  own  household.  Therefore  I  shall 
not  apologise  in  any  way  for  leaving  the  remainder  of  the 
sidereal  universe  to  its  unknown  fate,  and  concentrating 
my  attention  mainly  on  the  afi'airs  of  that  solitary  little, 
out-of-the-way,  second-rate  system,  whereof  we  form  an  in- 
appreciable portion.  The  matter  which  now  composes  the 
sun  and  its  attendant  bodies  (the  satellites  included)  was 
once  spread  out,  according  to  Laplace,  to  at  least  the 
furthest  orbit  of  the  outermost  planet — that  is  to  say,  so 
far  as  our  present  knowledge  goes,  the  planet  Neptune.     Of 


EVOLUTION  37 

course,  when  it  was  expanded  to  that  immense  distance,  it 
must  have  been  very  thin  indeed,  thinner  than  our  clumsy 
human  senses  can  even  conceive  of.  An  American  would 
say,  too  thin ;  but  I  put  Americans  out  of  court  at  once  as 
mere  irreverent  scoffers.  From  the  orbit  of  Neptune,  or 
sometliing  outside  it,  the  faint  and  cloud-like  mass  which 
bore  within  it  Cfcsar  and  his  fortunes,  not  to  mention  the 
remainder  of  the  earth  and  the  solar  system,  began  slowly 
to  converge  and  gather  itself  in,  growing  denser  and  denser 
but  smaller  and  smaller  as  it  gradually  neared  its  existing 
dimensions.  How  long  a  time  it  took  to  do  it  is  for  our 
present  purpose  relatively  unimportant :  the  cruel  physicists 
will  only  let  us  have  a  beggarly  hundred  million  years  or 
so  for  the  process,  while  the  grasping  and  extravagant 
evolutionary  geologists  beg  with  tears  for  at  least  double  or 
even  ten  times  that  limited  period.  But  at  any  rate  it  has 
taken  a  good  long  while,  and,  as  far  as  most  of  us  are 
personally  concerned,  the  difference  of  one  or  two  hundred 
millions,  if  it  comes  to  that,  is  not  really  at  all  an  appreci- 
able one. 

As  it  condensed  and  lessened  towards  its  central  core, 
revolving  rapidly  on  its  great  axis,  the  solar  mist  left  behind 
at  irregular  intervals  concentric  rings  or  belts  of  cloud-like 
matter,  cast  off  from  its  equator ;  which  belts,  once  more 
undergoing  a  similar  evolution  on  their  own  account,  have 
hardened  round  their  private  centres  of  gravity  into  Jupiter 
or  Saturn,  the  Earth  or  Venus.  Round  these  again,  minor 
belts  or  rings  have  sometimes  formed,  as  in  Saturn's  girdle 
of  petty  satellites ;  or  subsidiary  planets,  thrown  out  into 
space,  have  circled  round  their  own  primaries,  as  the  moon 
does  around  this  sublunary  world  of  ours.  Meanwhile,  tlio 
main  central  mass  of  all,  retreating  ever  inward  as  it 
dropped  behind  it  these  occasional  little  reminders  of  its 
temporary  stoppages,  formed  at  last   the   sun  itself,  the 


38  EVOLUTION 

main  luminary  of  our  entire  system.  Now,  I  won't  deny 
that  this  primitive  Kantian  and  Laplacian  evohitionism, 
this  nebular  theory  of  such  exquisite  concinnity,  here 
reduced  to  its  simplest  terms  and  most  elementary 
dimensions,  has  received  many  hard  knocks  from  later 
astronomers,  and  has  been  a  good  deal  bowled  over,  both 
on  mathematical  and  astronomical  grounds,  by  recent 
investigators  of  nebulie  and  meteors.  Observations  on 
comets  and  on  the  sun's  surface  have  lately  shown  that  it 
contains  in  all  likelihood  a  very  considerable  fanciful 
admixture.  It  isn't  more  than  half  true ;  and  even  the 
half  now  totters  in  places.  Still,  as  a  vehicle  of  popular 
exposition  the  crude  nebular  hypothesis  in  its  rawest  form 
serves  a  great  deal  better  than  tlie  truth,  so  far  as  yet 
known,  on  the  good  old  Greek  principle  of  the  half  being 
often  more  than  the  whole.  The  great  point  which  it  im- 
presses on  the  mind  is  the  cardinal  idea  of  the  sun  and 
planets,  with  their  attendant  satellites,  not  as  turned  out 
like  manufactured  articles,  ready  made,  at  measured 
intervals,  in  a  vast  and  deliberate  celestial  Orrery,  but  as 
due  to  the  slow  and  gradual  working  of  natural  laws,  in 
accordance  with  which  each  has  assumed  by  force  of  circum- 
stances its  existing  place,  weight,  orbit,  and  motion. 

The  grand  conception  of  a  gradual  becoming,  instead 
of  a  sudden  making,  which  Kant  and  Laplace  thus  applied 
to  the  component  bodies  of  the  universe  at  large,  was 
further  applied  by  Lyell  and  his  school  to  the  outer  crust 
of  this  one  particular  petty  planet  of  ours.  While  the 
astronomers  went  in  for  the  evolution  of  suns,  stars,  and 
worlds,  Lyell  and  his  geological  brethren  went  in  for  the 
evolution  of  the  earth's  surface.  As  theirs  was  stellar,  so 
his  was  mundane.  If  the  world  began  by  being  a  red-hot 
mass  of  planetary  matter  in  a  high  state  of  internal  excite- 
ment, boiling  and  dancing  with  the  heat  of  its  emotions,  it 


EVOLUTIN  39 

gradually  cooled  down  with  age  and  experience,  for  growing 
old  is  growing  cold,  as  every  one  of  us  in  time,  alas,  dis- 
covers. As  it  passed  from  its  fiery  and  volcanic  youth  to 
its  staider  and  soberer  middle  age,  a  solid  crust  began  to 
form  in  filmy  fashion  upon  its  cooling  surface.  The  aqueous 
vapour  that  had  floated  at  first  as  steam  around  its  heated 
mass  condensed  with  time  into  a  wide  ocean  over  the  now 
hardened  shell.  Gradually  this  ocean  shifted  its  bulk  into 
two  or  three  main  bodies  that  sank  into  hollows  of  the 
viscid  crust,  the  precursors  of  Atlantic,  Pacific,  and  the 
Indian  Seas.  AVrhiklings  of  the  crust,  produced  by  the 
cooling  and  consequent  contraction,  gave  rise  at  first  to 
baby  mountain  ranges,  and  afterwards  to  the  earliest  rough 
draughts  of  the  still  very  vague  and  sketchy  continents. 
The  world  grew  daily  more  complex  and  more  diverse  ;  it 
progressed,  in  accordance  with  the  Spencerian  law,  from 
the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous,  and  so  forth,  as 
aforesaid,  with  delightful  regularity. 

At  last,  by  long  and  graduated  changes,  seas  and  lands, 
peninsulas  and  islands,  lakes  and  rivers,  hills  and  mountains, 
were  wrought  out  by  internal  or  external  energies  on  the 
crust  thus  generally  fashioned.  Evaporation  from  the 
oceans  gave  rise  to  clouds  and  rain  and  hailstorms ;  the 
water  that  fell  upon  the  mountain  tops  cut  out  the  valleys 
and  river  basins ;  rills  gathered  into  brooks,  brooks  into 
streams,  streams  into  primaeval  Niles,  and  Amazons,  and 
Mississippis.  Volcanic  forces  uplifted  here  an  Alpine  chain, 
or  depressed  there  a  deep-sea  hollow.  Sediment  washed 
from  the  hills  and  plains,  or  formed  from  countless  skeletons 
of  marine  creatures,  gathered  on  the  sinking  bed  of  the 
ocean  as  soft  ooze,  or  crumbling  sand,  or  thick  mud,  or 
gravel  and  conglomerate.  Now  upheaved  into  an  elevated 
table-land,  now  slowly  carved  again  by  rain  and  rill  into 
valley  and  watershed,  and  now  worn  down  once  more  into 


40  EVOLUTION 

the  mere  degraded  stump  of  a  plateau,  the  crust  underwent 
innumerable  changes,  but  almost  all  of  them  exactly  the 
same  in  kind,  and  mostly  in  degree,  as  those  we  still  see  at 
work  imperceptibly  in  the  world  around  us.  Rain  washing 
down  the  soil ;  weather  crumbling  the  solid  rock ;  waves 
dashing  at  the  foot  of  the  cliffs ;  rivers  forming  deltas  at  their 
barred  mouths  ;  shingle  gathering  on  the  low  spits  ;  floods 
sweeping  before  them  the  countryside  ;  ice  grinding  cease- 
lessly at  the  mountain  top ;  peat  filling  up  the  shallow 
lake — these  are  the  chief  factors  which  have  gone  to  make 
the  physical  world  as  we  now  actually  know  it.  Land  and 
sea,  coast  and  contour,  hill  and  valley,  dale  and  gorge, 
earth-sculpture  generally — all  are  due  to  the  ceaseless 
interaction  of  these  separately  small  and  unnoticeable 
causes,  aided  or  retarded  by  the  slow  effects  of  elevation  or 
depression  from  the  earth's  shrinliage  towards  its  own 
centre.  Geology,  in  short,  has  shown  us  that  the  world  is 
what  it  is,  not  by  virtue  of  a  single  sudden  creative  act, 
nor  by  virtue  of  successive  terrible  and  recurrent  cata- 
clysms, but  by  virtue  of  the  slow  continuous  action  of 
causes  still  always  equally  operative. 

Evolution  in  geology  leads  up  naturally  to  evolution  in 
the  science  of  life.  If  the  world  itself  grew,  why  not  also 
the  animals  and  plants  that  inhabit  it  ?  Already  in  the 
eager  active  eighteenth  century  this  obvious  idea  had  struck 
in  the  germ  a  large  number  of  zoologists  and  botanists,  and 
in  the  hands  of  Lamarck  and  Erasmus  Darwin  it  took 
form  as  a  distinct  and  elaborate  system  of  organic  evolution. 
Buffon  had  been  the  first  to  hint  at  the  truth ;  but  BuiTon  was 
an  eminently  respectable  nobleman  in  the  dubious  days  of 
the  tottering  monarchy,  and  he  did  not  care  personally  for 
the  Bastille,  viewed  as  a  place  of  permanent  residence.  In 
Louis  Quinze's  France,  indeed,  as  things  then  went,  a  man 
who  offended  the  orthodoxy  of  the  Sorbonne  was  prone  to 


EVOLUTION  41 

find  himself  shortly  ensconced  in  free  quarters,  and  kept 
there  for  the  term  of  his  natural  existence  without  expense 
to  his  heirs  or  executors.  So  Buffon  did  not  venture  to 
say  outri,i,'ht  that  he  thought  all  animals  and  plants  were 
descended  one  from  the  other  with  slight  modifications ; 
that  would  have  been  wicked,  and  the  Sorbonne  would  have 
proved  its  wickedness  to  him  in  a  most  conclusive  fashion 
by  promptly  getting  him  imprisoned  or  silenced.  It  is  so 
easy  to  confute  your  opponent  when  you  are  a  hundred 
strong  and  he  is  one  weak  unit.  Buffon  merely  said,  there- 
fore, that  if  we  didn't  know  the  contrary  to  be  the  case  by 
sure  warrant,  we  might  easily  have  concluded  (so  fallible 
is  our  reason)  that  animals  always  varied  slightly,  and  that 
such  variations,  indefinitely  accumulated,  would  suffice  to 
account  for  almost  any  amount  of  ultimate  difference.  A 
donkey  might  thus  have  grown  into  a  horse,  and  a  bird 
might  have  developed  from  a  primitive  lizard.  Only  we  know 
it  was  quite  otherwise  !  A  quiet  hint  from  Buffon  was  as 
good  as  a  declaration  from  many  less  knowing  or  suggestive 
people.  All  over  Europe,  the  wise  took  Buflbn's  hmt  for 
what  he  meant  it ;  and  the  unwise  blandly  passed  it  by  as 
a  mere  passing  little  foolish  vagary  of  that  great  ironical 
writer  and  thinker. 

Erasmus  Darwin,  the  grandfather  of  his  grandson,  Avas 
no  fool ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  the  most  far-sighted  man 
of  liis  day  in  England ;  he  saw  at  once  what  Buffon  was 
driving  at ;  and  he  worked  out '  Mr.  Buffbn's  '  half-concealed 
hint  to  all  its  natural  and  legitimate  conclusions.  The 
great  Count  was  always  plain  Mr.  Buffon  to  his  English 
contemporary.  Life,  said  Erasmus  Darwin  nearly  a  century 
since,  began  in  very  minute  marine  forms,  which  gradually 
acquired  fresh  powers  and  larger  bodies,  so  as  imperceptibly 
to  transform  themselves  into  different  creatures.  Mmi,  he 
remarked,   anticipating  his   descendant,   takes  rabbits   or 


42  EVOLUTION 

pigeons,  and  alters  them  almost  to  his  own  fancy,  by  im- 
mensely changing  their  ahapos  and  colours.  If  man  can  make 
a  pouter  or  a  fan  tail  out  of  the  common  runt,  if  he  can  pro- 
duce a  piebidd  lop-ear  from  the  brown  wild  rabbit,  if  he 
can  transform  Dorkings  into  Black  Spanish,  why  cannot 
Nature,  with  longer  time  to  work  in,  and  endless  lives  to 
try  with,  produce  all  the  varieties  of  vertebrate  animals  out 
of  one  single  common  ancestor?  It  was  a  bold  idea  of  the 
Lichfield  doctor — bold,  at  least,  for  the  times  he  lived  in — 
when  Sam  Johnson  was  held  a  mighty  sage,  and  physical 
speculation  was  regarded  askance  as  having  in  it  a  dangerous 
touch  of  the  devil.  But  the  parwins  were  always  a  bold 
folk,  and  liad  the  courage  of  their  opinions  more  than 
most  men.  Bo  even  in  Lichfield,  cathedral  city  as  it  was, 
and  in  the  politely  somnolent  eighteenth  century,  Erasmus 
Darwin  ventured  to  point  out  the  probability  that  quadru- 
peds, birds,  reptiles,  and  men  were  all  mere  divergent 
descendants  of  a  single  similar  original  form,  and  even  that 
*  one  and  the  same  kind  of  living  filament  is,  and  has  been, 
the  cause  of  organic  life.' 

The  eighteenth  century  laughed,  of  course.  It  always 
laughed  at  all  reformers.  It  said  Dr.  Darwin  was  very 
clever,  but  really  a  most  eccentric  man.  His  '  Temple  of 
Nature,'  now,  and  his  '  Botanic  Garden,'  were  vastly  fine 
and  charming  poems  —those  sweet  lines,  you  know,  about 
poor  Eliza ! — but  his  zoological  theories  were  built  of  course 
upon  a  most  absurd  and  uncertain  foundation.  In  prose, 
no  sensible  person  could  ever  take  the  doctor  seriously.  A 
freak  of  genius — nothing  more ;  a  mere  desire  to  seem 
clever  and  singular.  But  w^liat  a  Nemesis  the  whirligig  of 
time  has  brought  around  with  it !  By  a  strange  irony  of 
fate,  those  admired  verses  are  now  almost  entirely  for- 
gotten ;  poor  Eliza  has  sur^dved  only  as  our  awful  example 
of  artificial  pathos ;  and  the  zoological  heresies,  at  which 


EVOLUTION  43 

the  eighteenth  century  shrugged  its  fiit  shoulders  and 
dimpled  the  corners  of  its  ample  mouth,  have  grown  to  he 
the  chief  cornerstone  of  all  accepted  modern  zoological 
science. 

In  the  first  year  of  the  present  century,  Lamarck 
followed  Erasmus  Darwin's  lead  with  an  open  avowal  that 
in  his  belief  all  animals  and  plants  were  really  descended 
from  one  or  a  few  common  ancestors.  lie  held  that 
organisms  v/ere  just  as  much  the  result  of  law,  not  of 
miraculous  interposition,  as  suns  and  worlds  and  all  tlie 
natural  phenomena  around  us  generally.  He  saw  that 
■what  naturalists  call  a  species  differs  from  what  naturalists 
call  a  variety,  merely  in  the  way  of  being  a  little  more 
distinctly  marked,  a  little  less  like  its  nearest  congeners 
elsewhere.  He  recognised  the  perfect  gradation  of  forms 
by  which  in  many  cases  one  species  after  another  merges 
into  the  next  on  either  side  of  it.  He  observed  the  analogy 
between  the  modifications  induced  by  man  and  the  modi- 
fications induced  by  nature.  In. fact,  he  was  a  thorough- 
going and  convinced  evolutionist,  holding  every  salient 
opinion  which  Society  still  believes  to  have  been  due  to 
the  works  of  Charles  Darwin.  In  one  point  only,  a  minor 
point  to  outsiders,  though  a  point  of  cardinal  importance 
to  the  inner  brotherhood  of  evolutionism,  he  did  not  antici- 
pate his  more  famous  successor.  He  thought  organic 
evolution  was  wholly  due  to  the  direct  action  of  surround- 
ing circumstances,  to  the  intercrossing  of  existing  forms, 
and  above  all  to  the  actual  efforts  of  animals  themselves. 
In  other  words,  he  had  not  discovered  natural  selection,  the 
cardinal  idea  of  Charles  Darwin's  epoch-making  book. 
For  him,  the  giraffe  had  acquired  its  long  neck  by  constant 
reaching  up  to  the  boughs  of  trees ;  the  monkey  had 
acquired  its  opposable  thumb  by  constant  grasping  at  the 
neighbouring  branches ;  and  the  serpent  had  acquired  its 
4 


44  EVOLUTION  -^ 

sinuous  sliape  by  constant  wriggling  through  the  grass  of 
the  meadows.  Charles  Darwin  improved  upon  all  that  by 
liis  suggestive  hint  of  survival  of  the  fittest,  and  in  so  far, 
but  in  so  far  alone,  ho  became  the  real  father  of  modern 
biological  evolutionism. 

From  the  days  of  Lamarck,  to  the  day  when  Charles 
Darwin  himself  pul)lished  his  wonderful '  Origin  of  Species,' 
this  idea  that  plants  and  animals  might  really  have  grown, 
instead  of  having  been  made  all  of  a  piece,  kept  brewing 
everywhere  in  the  minds  and  brains  of  scientilic  thinkers. 
The  notions  which  to  the  outside  public  were  startlingly 
new  when  Darwin's  book  took  the  world  by  storm,  were 
old  indeed  to  the  thinkers  and  workers  who  had  long  been 
familiar  with  the  principle  of  descent  with  modification 
and  the  speculatioiiS  of  the  Lichfield  doctor  or  the  Paris 
philosopher.  Long  before  Darwin  wrote  his  great  work, 
Herbert  Spencer  had  put  forth  in  plain  language  every 
idea  which  the  drawing-room  biologists  attributed  to  Darwin. 
The  supporters  of  the  development  hypothesis,  he  said  seven 
years  earlier — yes,  he  called  it  the  '  development  hypo- 
thesis '  in  so  many  words — '  can  show  that  modification  has 
effected  and  is  effecting  great  changes  in  all  organisms, 
subject  to  modifying  influences.'  They  can  show,  he 
goes  on  (if  I  may  venture  to  condense  so  great  a  thinker), 
that  any  existing  plant  or  animal,  placed  under  new  con- 
ditions, begins  to  undergo  adaptive  changes  of  form  and 
structure ;  that  in  successive  generations  these  changes 
continue,  till  the  plant  or  animal  acquires  totally  new 
habits  ;  that  in  cultivated  plants  and  domesticated  animals 
changes  of  the  sort  habitually  occur ;  that  the  diffe- 
rences thus  caused,  as  for  example  in  dogs,  are  often 
greater  than  those  on  which  species  in  the  wild  state  are 
founded,  and  that  throughout  all  organic  nature  there  is 
at  work  a  modifying  influence  of  the  same  sort  as  that 


EVOLUTION  45 

which  they  beHeved  to  have  caused  the  differoncea  of 
species — *  an  influence  which,  to  all  appearance,  would 
produce  in  the  millions  of  years  and  under  the  great  variety 
of  conditions  which  geolo;^ical  records  imply,  any  amouiib 
of  change.'  What  is  this  but  pure  Darwinism,  as  the 
drawing-room  philosopher  still  understands  the  word  ? 
And  yet  it  was  written  seven  years  before  Darwin  published 
the  '  Origin  of  Species.' 

The  fact  is,  one  might  draw  up  quite  a  long  list  of 
Darwinians  before  Darwin.  Here  are  a  few  of  them — - 
Buffon,  Lamarck,  Goethe,  Oken,  Bates,  Wallace,  Lecoq, 
Von  Baer,  Robert  Chambers,  Matthew,  and  Herbert 
Spencer.  Depend  upon  it,  no  one  man  ever  yet  of  himself 
discovered  any  tiling.  As  well  say  that  Luther  made  the 
German  Reformation,  that  Lionardo  made  the  Italian 
Renaissance,  or  that  Robespierre  made  the  French  Revo- 
lution, as  say  that  Charles  Darwin,  and  Charles  Darwin 
alone,  made  the  evolutionary  movement,  even  in  the 
restricted  field  of  life  only.  A  thousand  predecessors 
worked  up  towards  him  ;  a  thousand  contemporaries  helped 
to  diffuse  and  to  confirm  his  various  principles. 

Charles  Darwin  added  to  the  primitive  evolutionary  idea 
the  special  notion  of  natural  selection.  That  is  to  say, 
he  pointed  out  that  while  plants  and  animals  vary  perpe- 
tually and  vary  indefinitely,  all  the  varieties  so  produced  are 
not  equally  adapted  to  the  circumstances  of  the  species. 
If  the  variation  is  a  bad  one,  it  tends  to  die  out,  because 
every  point  of  disadvantage  tells  against  the  individual  in 
the  struggle  for  life.  If  the  variation  is  a  good  one,  it 
tends  to  persist,  because  every  point  of  advantage  similarly 
tells  in  the  individual's  favour  in  that  ceaseless  and  viewless 
battle.  It  was  this  addition  to  the  evolutionary  concept, 
fortified  by  Darwin's  powerful  advocacy  of  the  general  prin- 
ciple of  descent  with  modification,  that  won  over  the  whole 


46  EVOLUTION 

world  to  the  *  Danvinian  theory.'  Before  Darwin,  many 
men  of  science  were  evolutionists  :  after  Darwin,  all  men  of 
science  became  so  at  once,  and  the  rest  of  the  world  is 
rapidly  preparing  to  follow  their  leadership. 

As  applied  to  life,  then,  the  evolutionary  idea  is  briefly 
this — that  plants  and  animals  have  all  a  natural  origin 
from  a  single  primitive  living  creature,  which  itself  was 
the  product  of  light  and  heat  acting  on  the  special  chemical 
constituents  of  an  ancient  ocean.  Starting  from  that  single 
early  form,  they  have  gone  on  developing  ever  since,  from 
the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous,  assuming  ever  more 
varied  shapes,  till  at  last  they  have  reached  their  present 
enormous  variety  of  tree,  and  shrub,  and  herb,  and  seaweed, 
of  beast,  and  bird,  and  fish,  and  creeping  insect.  Evolution 
throughout  has  been  one  and  continuous,  from  nebula  to 
sun,  from  gas-cloud  to  planet,  from  early  jelly-speck  to  man 
or  elephant.  So  at  least  evolutionists  say — and  of  course 
they  ought  to  know  most  about  it. 

But  evolution,  according  to  the  evolutionists,  does  not 
even  stop  here.  Psychology  as  well  as  biology  has  also  its 
evolutionary  explanation :  mind  is  concerned  as  truly  as 
matter.  If  the  bodies  of  animals  are  evolved,  their  minds 
must  be  evolved  likewise.  Herbert  Spencer  and  his 
followers  have  been  mainly  instrumentoi  in  elucidating 
this  aspect  of  the  case.  They  have  shown,  or  they  have 
tried  to  show  (for  I  don't  want  to  dogmatise  oritlie  subject), 
how  mind  is  gradually  built  up  from  the  snnplest  raw 
elements  of  sense  and  feeling  ;  how  emotions  and  intellect 
slowly  arise ;  how  the  action  of  the  environment  on  the 
organism  begets  a  nervous  system  of  ever  greater  and 
greater  complexity,  culminating  at  last  in  the  brain  of  a 
Newton,  a  Shakespeare,  or  a  Mendelssohn.  Step  by  step, 
nerves  have  built  themselves  up  out  of  the  soft  tissues  as 
channels  of  communication  between  part  and  part.     Sense- 


EVOLUTION  47 

organs  of  extreme  simplicity  have  first  been  formed  on  the 
outside  of  tlie  body,  where  it  comes  most  into  contact  with 
external  nature.  Use  and  wont  have  fashioned  them 
through  long  ages  into  organs  of  taste  and  smell  and  touch  ; 
pigment  spots,  sensitive  to  light  or  shade,  have  grown  by 
infinite  gradations  into  the  human  eye  or  into  the  myiiad 
facets  of  bee  and  beetle  ;  tremulous  nerve-ends,  responsive 
sympathetically  to  waves  of  sound,  have  tuned  themselves 
at  last  into  a  perfect  gamut  in  the  developed  ear  of  men 
and  mammals.  Meanwhile  corresponding  percipient  centres 
have  grown  up  in  the  brain,  so  that  the  coloured  picture 
flashed  by  an  external  scene  upon  the  eye  is  telegraphed 
from  the  sensitive  mirror  of  the  retina,  through  the  many- 
stranded  cable  of  the  optic  nerve,  straight  up  to  the  appro- 
priate headquarters  in  the  thinking  brain.  Stage  by  stage 
the  continuous  process  has  gone  on  unceasingly,  from  the 
jelly-fish  with  its  tiny  black  specks  of  eyes,  through  infinite 
steps  of  progression,  induced  by  ever- widening  intercourse 
with  the  outer  world,  to  the  final  outcome  in  the  senses 
and  the  emotions,  the  intellect  and  the  will,  of  civilised 
man.  Mind  begins  as  a  vague  consciousness  of  touch  or 
pressure  on  the  part  of  some  primitive,  shapeless,  soft 
creature :  it  ends  as  an  organised  and  co-ordinated  reflection 
of  the  entire  physical  and  psychical  universe  on  the  part 
of  a  great  cosmical  philosopher. 

Last  of  all,  like  diners-out  at  dessert,  the  evolutionists 
take  to  politics.  Having  showTi  us  entirely  to  their  own 
satisfaction  the  growth  of  suns,  and  systems,  and  worlds, 
and  continents,  and  oceans,  and  plants,  and  animals,  and 
minds,  they  proceed  to  show  us  the  exactly  analogous  and 
parallel  growth  of  communities,  and  nations,  and  languages, 
and  religions,  and  customs,  and  arts,  and  institutions,  and 
literatures.  Man,  the  evolving  savage,  as  Tylor,  Lubbock, 
and  others  have  proved  for  us,  slowly  putting  off  his  brute 
aspect  derived  from  his  early  ape-like  ancestors,  learned  by 


48  EVOLUTION 

infinitesimal  degrees  the  use  of  fire,  the  mode  of  manufactur- 
ing stone  hatchets  and  flint  arrowheads,  the  earUest  be- 
ginnings of  the  art  of  pottery.  With  drill  or  flint  he  be- 
came the  Prometheus  to  his  own  small  heap  of  sticks  and 
dry  leaves  among  the  tertiary  forests.  By  his  nightly 
camp-fire  he  beat  out  gradually  his  excited  gesture-language 
and  his  oral  speech.  He  tamed  the  dog,  the  horse,  the 
cow,  the  camel.  He  taught  himself  to  hew  small  clearings 
in  the  woodland,  and  to  plant  the  banana,  the  yam,  the 
bread-fruit,  and  the  coco-nut.  He  picked  and  improved 
the  seeds  of  his  wild  cereals  till  he  lade  himself  from 
grass-like  grains  his  barley,  his  oats,  his  wheat,  his  Indian 
corni  In  time,  he  dug  out  ore  from  mines,  and  learnt  the 
use  first  of  gold,  next  of  silver,  then  of  copper,  tin,  bronze, 
and  iron.  Side  by  side  with  these  long  secular  changes, 
he  evolved  the  family,  communal  or  patriarchal,  polygamic 
or  monogamous.  He  built  the  hut,  the  house,  and  the 
palace.  He  clothed  or  adorned  himself  first  in  sldns  and 
leaves  and  feathers  ;  next  in  woven  wool  and  fibre ;  last  of 
all  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  fared  sumptuously  every 
day.  He  gathered  into  hordes,  tribes,  and  nations ;  he 
chose  himself  a  king,  gave  himself  laws,  and  built  up  great 
empires  in  Egypt,  Assyria,  China,  and  Peru.  He  raised 
him  altars,  Stoneiienges  and  Karnaks.  His  picture-writing 
grew  into  hieroglyphs  and  cuneiforms,  and  finally  emerged, 
by  imperceptible  steps,  into  alphabetic  symbols,  the  raw 
material  of  the  art  of  printing.  His  dug-out  canoe  culmi- 
nates in  the  iron-clad  and  the  *  Great  Eastern ' ;  his  boome- 
rang and  slingstone  in  the  Woolwich  infant ;  his  boiling 
pipkin  and  his  wheeled  car  in  the  locomotive  engine ;  his 
picture-message  in  the  telephone  and  the  Atlantic  cable. 
Here,  where  the  course  of  evolution  has  really  been  most 
marvellous,  its  steps  have  been  all  more  distinctly  liistorical ; 
80  that  nobody  now  doubts  the  true  descent  of  Italian,  French, 
and  Spanish  from  provincial  Latin,  or  the  successive  growth 


EVOLUTION  49 

of  the  trireme,  the  '  Great  Harry,'  the  '  Victory,'and  the '  Mi- 
notaur '  from  the  coracles  or  praus  of  prehistoric  antiquity. 
The  grand  conception  of  the  uniform  origin  and  develop- 
ment of  all  things,  earthly  or  sidereal,  thus  summed  up  for  us 
in  the  one  word  evolution,  belongs  by  right  neither  to  Charles 
Darwin  nor  to  any  other  single  thinker.  It  is  the  joint  pro- 
duct of  innumerable  woi-kcrs,  all  working  up,  though  some  of 
them  unconsciously,  towards  a  grand  final  unified  philo- 
sophy of  the  cosmos.  In  astronomy,  Kant,  Laplace,  and  the 
Herschels ;  in  geology,  Hutton,  Lyell,  and  the  Geikies ; 
in  biology,  Buffon,  Lamarck,  the  Darwins,  Huxley,  and 
Spencer ;  in  psychology,  Spencer,  Romanes,  Sully,  and 
Ribot ;  in  sociology,  Spencer,  Tylor,  Lubbock,  and  De 
Mortillet— these  have  been  the  chief  evolutionary  teachers 
and  discoverers.  But  the  use  of  the  word  evolution  itself, 
and  the  establishment  of  the  general  evolutionary  theory  as 
a  system  of  philosophy  applicable  to  the  entire  universe,  we 
owe  to  one  man  alone — Herbert  Spencer.  Many  other  minds 
— from  Galileo  and  Copernicus,  from  Kepler  and  Newton, 
from  Linnreus  and  Tournefort,  from  D'Alembert  and 
Diderot,  nay,  even,  in  a  sense,  from  Aristotle  and  Lucretius 
— had  been  piling  together  the  vast  collection  of  raw 
material  from  which  that  great  and  stately  superstructure 
was  to  be  finally  edified.  But  the  architect  who  placed  each 
block  in  its  proper  niche,  who  planned  and  designed  the 
whole  elevation,  who  planted  the  building  firmly  on  the 
rock  and  poised  the  coping-stone  on  the  topmost  pinnacle, 
was  the  author  of  the  '  System  of  Synthetic  Philosophy/ 
and  none  other.  It  is  a  strange  proof  of  how  little  people 
know  about  their  own  ideas,  that  among  tjie  thousands  who 
talk  glibly  every  day  of  evolution,  not  ten  per  cent,  are  pro- 
bably aware  that  both  word  and  conception  are  alike  due  to 
the  commanding  intelligence  and  vast  generalising  power 
of  Herbert  Spencer. 


50  STRICTLY  INCOO. 


STBICTLY  INCOG, 

Among  the  reefs  of  rock  upon  the  Austrahan  coast,  an 
explorer's  dredge  often  brmgs  up  to  tlie  surface  some 
tangled  tresses  of  reddish  seaweed,  which,  when  placed  for 
a  while  in  a  bucket  of  water,  begin  slowly  to  uncoil  them- 
selves as  if  endowed  with  animal  life,  and  finally  to  swim 
abjut  with  a  gentle  tremulous  motion  in  a  mute  inquiring 
way  from  side  to  side  of  the  pail  that  contains  them. 
Looked  at  closely  with  an  attentive  eye,  the  complex 
moving  mass  gradually  resolves  itself  into  two  parts  :  one  a 
ruddy  seaweed  with  long  streaming  fronds  ;  the  other,  a 
strangely  misshapen  and  dishevelled  pipe-fish,  exactly  imi- 
tating the  weed  itself  in  form  and  colour.  When  removed 
from  the  water,  this  queer  pipe-fish  proves  in  general  out- 
line somewhat  to  resemble  the  well-known  hippocampus  or 
sea-horse  of  the  aquariums,  whose  dried  remains,  in  a 
mummified  state,  form  a  standing  wonder  in  many  tiny 
domestic  museums.  But  the  Australian  species,  instead  of 
merely  mimicking  the  knight  on  a  chess-board,  looks  rather 
like  a  hippocampus  in  the  most  advanced  stage  of  lunacy, 
with  its  tail  and  fins  and  the  appendages  of  its  spines  fiaitened 
out  into  long  thin  streaming  filaments,  utterly  indistinguish- 
able in  hue  and  shape  from  the  fucus  round  which  the 
creature  clings  for  support  with  its  prehensile  tail.  Only  a 
rude  and  shapeless  rough  draught  of  a  head,  vaguely  horse- 
like  in  contour,  and  inconspicuously  provided  with  a^^  un- 
obtrusive snout  and  a  pair  of  very  unnoticeable  eyes,  at  all 


STRICTLY  INCOG.  51 

suggests  to  the  most  microscopic  observer  its  animcal  nature. 
Taken  as  a  wliole,  nobody  could  at  first  sight  distinguish 
it  in  any  way  from  the  waving  weed  among  which  it 
vegetates. 

Clearlv,  this  curious  Austrahan  cousin  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean  sea-horses  lias  acquired  so  marvellous  a  resemblance 
to  a  bit  of  fucus  in  order  to  deceive  the  eves  of  its  ever- 
watchful  enemies,  and  to  become  indistinguishable  from 
the  uneatable  weed  whoso  colour  and  form  it  so  surprisingly 
imitates.     Protective  resemblances  of  the  sort  are  extremely 
common  among  the  pipe-fish  family,  and  the  reason  why 
they  should  be  so  is  no  doubt  suHlcicntly  obvious  at  first 
sight  to  any  reflecting  mind — such,  for  example,  as  the 
intelligent  reader's.     Pipe-fish,  as  everybody  knows,  are  far 
from  giddy.     They  do  not  swim  in  the  vortex  of  piscine 
dissipation.     Being  mostly  small  and  defenceless  creatures, 
lurking  among  the  marine  vegetation  of  the  shoals  and  reefs, 
they  are  usually  accustomed  to  cling  for  sui)port  by  their 
snake -like  tails  to  the  stalks  or  leaves  of  those  submerged 
forests.    The  omniscient  schoolboy  must  often  have  watched 
in  aquariums  the  habits  and  manners  of  the  common  sea- 
horses, twisted  together  by  their  long  thin  bodies  into  one 
inextricable  mass  of  living  matwork,  or  anchored  firmly 
with  a  treble  serpentine  coil  to  some  projecting  branch  of 
coralline   or  of  quivering  sea-wrack.      Bad  swimmers  by 
nature,  utterly  unarmed,  and  wholly  undefended  by  protec- 
tive mail,  the  pipe-fish  generally  can  neither  fight  nor  run 
away:  and  therefore  they  depend  entirely  for  their  lives 
upon  their  peculiar  skulking  and  lurking  habits.     Their  one 
mode  of  defence  is  not  to  show  themselves ;  discretion  is 
the   better  part  of  their  valour ;    they  hide  as  much  as 
possible  among  the  thickest  seaweed,  and  trust  to  Provi- 
dence to  escape  observation. 

Now,  with  any  animals  thus  constituted,  cowards  by 


52  STRICTLY  INCOG. 

hereditary  predilection,  it  must  necessarily  happen  that  the 
more  brightly  coloured  or  obtrusive  individuals  will  most 
readily  be  spotted  and  most  unceremoniously  devoured  by 
their  sharp-sighted  foes,  the  predatory  fishes.  On  the  other 
hand,  just  in  proportion  as  any  particular  pipe-fish  happens 
to  display  any  chance  resemblance  in  colour  or  appearance 
to  the  special  seaweed  in  whose  folds  it  lurks,  to  that  ex- 
tent will  it  be  likely  to  escape  detection,  and  to  hand  on  its 
peculiarities  to  its  future  descendants.  A  long-continued 
course  of  the  simple  process  thus  roughly  described  must 
of  necessity  result  at  last  in  the  elimination  of  all  the  most 
conspicuous  pipe-fish,  and  the  survival  of  all  those  un- 
obtrusive and  retiring  individuals  which  in  any  respect 
happen  to  resemble  the  fucus  or  coralline  among  which 
they  dwell.  Hence,  in  many  places,  various  kinds  of  pipe- 
fish exhibit  an  extraordinary  amount  of  imitative  likeness  to 
tixe  sargasso  or  seaweed  to  whose  tags  they  cling ;  and  in  the 
three  most  highly  developed  Australian  species  the  likeness 
becomes  so  ridiculously  close  that  it  is  with  difficulty  one 
can  persuade  oneself  one  is  really  and  truly  looking  at  a 
fish,  and  not  at  a  piece  of  strangely  animated  and  locomo- 
tive fucus. 

Of  course,  the  playful  pipe-fish  is  by  no  means  alone  in 
his  assumption  of  so  neat  and  eliective  a  disguise.  Pro- 
tective resemblances  of  just  the  same  sort  as  that  thus 
exhibited  by  this  extraordinary  little  creature  are  common 
throughout  the  whole  range  of  nature  ;  instances  are  to  be 
found  in  abundance,  not  only  among  beasts,  birds,  reptiles, 
and  fishes,  but  even  among  caterpillars,  butterflies,  and 
spiders,  of  species  which  preserve  the  strictest  incognito. 
Everywhere  in  the  world,  animals  and  plants  are  perpe- 
tually masquerading  in  various  assumed  characters ; 
and  sometimes  their  make-up  is  so  exceedingly  good 
as  to  take  in  for    a  while  not  merely  the  uninstructed 


STEICTLY  INCOG.  53 

ordinary  observer,  but  even  the  scientific  and  systematic 
naturalist. 

A  few  selected  instances  of  sucli  successful  masquerading 
will  perhaps  best  serve  to  introduce  the  general  principles 
upon  which  all  animal  mimicry  ultimately  depends.  In- 
deed, naturalists  of  late  years  have  been  largely  employed 
in  fishing  up  examples  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  and  from 
the  depths  of  the  sea  for  the  elucidation  of  this  very  subject. 
There  is  a  certain  butterfly  in  the  islands  of  the  Malay 
Archipelago  (its  learned  name,  if  anybody  wishes  to  be 
formally  introduced,  is  KalUma  imralckta)  which  always 
rests  among  dead  or  dry  leaves,  and  has  itself  leaf-like 
wings,  all  spotted  over  at  intervals  with  wee  speckles  to 
imitate  the  tiny  spots  of  fungi  on  the  foliage  it  resembles. 
The  well-known  sick  and  leaf  insects  from  the  same  rich 
neighbourhood  in  like  manner  exactly  mimic  the  twigs 
and  leaves  of  the  forest  among  which  they  lurk :  some  of 
them  look  for  all  the  world  like  little  bits  of  walking 
bamboo,  while  others  appear  in  all  varieties  of  hue,  as  if 
opening  buds  and  full-blown  leaves  and  pieces  of  yellow 
foliage  sprinkled  with  the  tints  and  moulds  of  decay  had  of 
a  sudden  raised  themselves  erect  upon  six  legs,  and  begun 
incontinently  to  perambulate  the  Malayan  woodlands  like 
vegetable  Frankensteins  in  all  their  glory.  The  larva  of 
one  such  deceptive  insect,  observed  in  Nicaragua  by  sharp- 
eyed  Mr.  Belt,  appeared  at  first  sight  like  a  mere  fragment  of 
the  moss  on  which  it  rested,  its  body  being  all  prolonged  into 
little  thread-like  green  filaments,  precisely  imitating  the 
foliage  around  it.  Once  more,  there  are  common  flies  which 
secure  protection  for  themselves  by  growing  into  the  counter- 
feit presentment  of  wasps  or  hornets,  and  so  obtaining 
immunity  from  the  attacks  of  birds  or  animals.  Many  of 
these  curiously  mimetic  insects  are  banded  with  yellow  and 
black  in  the  very  image  of  their  stinging  originals,  and 


54  STKICTLY  INCOG. 

have  their  tails  sliarpenccl,  in  terrorem,  into  a  prcLondcd 
sting,  to  give  point  and  verisimilitude  to  the  deceptive 
resemblance.  More  curious  still,  certain  South  American 
butterflies  of  a  perfectly  inoffensive  and  edible  family  mimic 
in  every  spot  and  line  of  colour  sundry  otlu^r  butterflies  of  an 
utterly  unrelated  and  fundamentally  dissimilar  type,  but  of 
so  disagreeable  a  taste  as  never  to  be  eaten  by  birds  or 
lizards.  The  origin  of  these  curious  resemblances  I  shall 
endeavour  to  explain  (after  Messrs.  Bates  and  Wallace)  a 
little  farther  on  :  for  the  present  it  is  enough  to  observe 
that  the  extraordinary  resemblances  thus  produced  have 
often  deceived  the  very  elect,  and  have  caused  experienced 
naturalists  for  a  time  to  stick  some  deceptive  specimen  of  a 
fly  among  the  wasps  and  hornets,  or  some  masquerading 
cricket  into  the  midst  of  a  cabinet  full  of  saw-flies  or 
ichneumons. 

Let  us  look  briefly  at  the  other  instances  of  protective 
coloration  in  nature  generally  which  lead  up  to  these  final 
bizarre  exemplifications  of  the  masquerading  tendency. 

Wherever  all  the  world  around  is  remarkably  uniform 
in  colour  and  appearance,  all  the  animals,  birds,  and  insects 
alike  necessarily  disguise  themselves  in  its  prevailing  tint 
to  escape  observation.  It  does  not  matter  in  the  least 
whether  they  are  predatory  or  defenceless,  the  hunters  or 
the  hmited  :  if  they  are  to  escape  destruction  or  starvation, 
as  the  case  may  be,  they  must  assume  the  hue  of  all  the 
rest  of  nature  about  them.  In  the  arctic  snows,  for 
example,  all  animals,  without  exception,  must  needs  be 
snow-white.  The  polar  bear,  if  he  were  brown  or  black, 
would  immediately  be  observed  among  the  unvaried  ice- 
fields by  his  expected  prey,  and  could  never  get  a  chance  of 
approaching  his  quarry  unperceived  at  close  quarters.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  arctic  hare  must  equally  be  dressed  in 
a  snow-white  coat,  or  the  arctic  fox  w^ould  too  readily  dis- 


STRICTLY   INCOG.  55 

cover  him  and  poimcft  down  upon  him  off-hand ;  while, 
conversely,  the  fox  himself,  if  red  or  brown,  could  never 
creep  upon  the  unwary  hare  without  previous  detection, 
which  would  defeat  his  purpose.  For  this  reason,  the 
ptarmig:an  and  the  willow  grouse  become  as  white  in  winter 
as  the  vast  snow-fields  under  which  thoy  burrow  ;  the 
ermine  changes  his  dusky  summer  coat  for  the  expensive 
wintry  suit  beloved  of  British  Themis  ;  the  snow-bunting 
acquires  his  milk-white  plumage ;  and  even  the  weasel 
assimilates  himself  more  or  less  in  hue  to  the  unvarying 
garb  of  arctic  nature.  To  be  out  of  the  fashion  is  there 
quite  literally  to  be  out  of  the  world  :  no  half-measures  will 
suit  the  stern  decree  of  polar  biology  ;  strict  compliance 
with  the  law  of  winter  change  is  absolutely  necessary  to 
success  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 

Now,  how  has  this  curious  uniformity  of  dress  in  arctic 
animals  been  brought  about  ?  Why,  simply  by  that  un- 
yielding principle  of  Nature  which  condemns  the  less  adapted 
for  ever  to  extinction,  and  exalts  the  better  adapted  to  the 
high  places  of  her  hierarchy  in  their  stead.  The  ptarmigan 
and  the  snow-buntings  that  look  most  like  the  snow  have 
for  ages  been  least  likely  to  attract  the  unfavourable  atten- 
tion of  arctic  fox  or  prowling  ermine ;  the  fox  or  ermine 
that  came  most  silently  and  most  unperceived  across  the 
shifting  drifts  has  been  most  likely  to  steal  unawares  upon 
the  heedless  flocks  of  ptarmigan  and  snow-bunting.  In 
the  one  case  protective  colouring  preserves  the  animal  from 
himself  being  devoured ;  in  the  other  case  it  enables  him 
the  more  easily  to  devour  others.  And  since  *  Eat  or  be 
eaten  '  is  the  shrill  sentence  of  Nature  upon  all  animal  life, 
the  final  result  is  the  unbroken  whiteness  of  the  arctic 
fauna  in  all  its  developments  of  fur  or  feather. 

Where  the  colouring  of  nature  is  absolutely  uniform,  as 
among  the  arctic  snows  or  the  chilly  mountain  tops,  the 


66  STRICTLY   INCOG. 

colouring  of  tlio  animals  is  uniform  too.  Where  it  is 
slightly  diversified  from  point  to  point,  as  in  the  sands  of 
the  desert,  the  animals  that  imitate  it  are  speckled  or 
diversified  with  various  soft  neutral  tints.  All  the  hirds, 
reptiles,  and  insects  of  Sahara,  says  Canon  Tristram,  copy 
closely  the  grey  or  isabelline  colour  of  the  boundless  sands 
that  strct^^h  around  them.  Lord  George  Campbell,  in  his 
amusing  'Log  Letters  from  the  "  Challenger,"  '  mentions  a 
butterfly  on  the  sliore  at  Amboyna  which  looked  exactly 
like  a  bit  of  the  beach,  until  it  spread  its  wings  and 
fluttered  away  gaily  to  leeward.  Soles  and  other  fiat-lish 
similarly  resemble  the  sands  or  banks  on  which  they  lie, 
and  accommodate  themselves  specifically  to  the  particular 
colour  of  their  special  bottom.  Thus  the  flounder  imitates 
the  muddy  bars  at  the  mouths  of  rivers,  where  he  loves  to 
half  bury  himself  in  the  congenial  ooze  ;  the  sole,  who 
rather  afi'ects  clean  hard  sand-banks,  is  simply  sandy  and 
speckled  with  grey  ;  the  plaice,  who  goes  in  by  preference  for 
a  bed  of  mixed  pebbles,  has  red  and  yellow  spots  scattered 
up  and  down  irregularly  among  the  brown,  to  look  as  much 
as  possible  like  agates  and  carnelians  :  the  brill,  who  hugs 
a  still  rougher  ledge,  has  gone  so  far  as  to  acquire  raised 
lumps  or  tubercles  on  his  upper  surface,  which  make  him 
seem  like  a  mere  bit  of  the  shingle- strewn  rock  on  which 
he  reposes.  In  short,  where  the  environment  is  most  uni- 
form the  colouring  follows  suit :  just  in  proportion  as  the 
environment  varies  from  place  to  place,  the  colouring  must 
vary  in  order  to  simulate  it.  There  is  a  deep  biological  joy 
in  the  term  *  environment ' ;  it  almost  rivals  the  well-known 
consolatory  properties  of  that  sweet  word  •  Mesopotamia.' 
'  Surroundings,'  perhaps,  would  equally  well  express  the 
meaning,  but  then,  as  Mr.  Wordsworth  justly  observes, 
•  the  difference  to  me  !  ' 

Between  England  and  the  West  Indies,  about  the  time 


STRICTLY  INCOG.  51 

when  one  begins  to  recover  from  the  first  bout  of  sca-sickncss, 
we  come  upon  a  certain  shigj,nsh  tract  of  ocean,  uninvaded 
by  either  Gulf  Stream  or  arctic  current,  but  slowly  stag- 
nating in  a  sort  of  endless  eddy  of  its  own,  and  known  to 
sailors  and  books  of  physical  geograpliy  as  the  Sargasso  Sea. 
The  sargasso  or  floating  seaweed  from  which  it  takes  its 
poetical  name  is  a  pretty  yellow  rootless  alga,  swimming 
in  vast  quantities  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  covered 
with  tiny  bladder-like  bodies  which  at  first  sight  might 
easily  be  mistaken  for  amber  berries.  If  you  drop  a  bucket 
over  the  ship's  side  and  pull  up  a  tangled  mass  of  this 
beautiful  seaweed,  it  will  seem  at  first  to  be  all  plant  alike ; 
but,  when  you  come  to  examine  its  tangles  closely,  you  will 
find  that  it  simply  swarms  with  tiny  crabs,  fishes,  and 
shrimps,  all  coloured  so  precisely  to  shade  that  they  look 
exactly  like  the  sargasso  itself.  Here  the  colour  about  is 
less  uniform  than  in  the  arctic  snows,  but,  so  far  as  the 
sargasso- haunting  animals  are  concerned,  it  comes  pretty 
much  to  the  same  thing.  The  floating  mass  of  weed  is 
their  whole  world,  and  they  have  had  to  accommodate 
themselves  to  its  tawny  hue  under  pain  of  death,  immedi- 
ate and  violent. 

Caterpillars  and  butterflies  often  show  us  a  further  step 
in  advance  in  the  direction  of  minute  imitiaton  of  ordinary 
surroundings.  Dr.  Weismann  has  published  a  very  long 
and  learned  memoir,  fraught  with  the  best  German  erudi- 
tion and  prolixity,  upon  this  highly  interesting  and  obscure 
subject.  As  English  readers,  however,  not  mmaturally  object 
to  trudging  through  a  stout  volume  on  the  larva  of  the  sphinx 
moth,  conceived  in  the  spirit  of  those  patriarchal  ages  of 
Hilpa  and  Shalum,  when  man  lived  to  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-nine  years,  and  devoted  a  stray  century  or  so  without 
stint  to  the  work  of  education,  I  shall  not  refer  them  to  Dr. 
Weismann's  original  treatise,  as  well  translated  and  still 


58  STRICTLY  INCOG. 

further  enlarf^cd  by  Mr.  Raphael  Meldola,  but  will  present 
them  instead  with  a  brief  rdsuine,  boiled  down  and  con- 
densed into  a  patent  royal  elixir  of  learnincf.  Your  cater- 
pillar, then,  runs  many  serious  risks  in  early  life  from  the 
annoyinjif  persistence  of  sundry  evil-dispo3ed  birds,  who 
insist  at  inconvenient  times  in  pickinj:^  him  oil'  the  leaves  of 
Pfooseberry  bushes  and  other  his  chosen  places  of  residence. 
His  infant  mortality,  indeed,  is  something,'  simply  appal- 
linfj;,  and  it  is  only  by  layinp^  the  ej?,G[s  that  produce  him  in 
enormous  quantities  that  his  fond  mother  the  butterfly  ever 
succeeds  in  rearing  on  an  average  two  of  her  brood  to 
replace  the  imago  generation  just  departed.  Accordingly, 
the  caterpillar  has  been  forced  by  adverse  circumstances  to 
assume  the  most  ridiculous  and  impossible  disguises,  appear- 
ing now  in  the  shape  of  a  leaf  or  stem,  now  as  a  bundle  of 
dark-green  pine  needles,  and  now  again  as  a  bud  or  flower 
all  for  the  innocent  pm'pose  of  concealing  his  whereabouts 
from  the  inquisitive  gaze  of  the  birds  his  enemies. 

When  the  caterpillar  lives  on  a  plant  like  a  grass,  the 
ribs  or  veins  of  which  run  up  and  down  longitudinally,  he 
is  usually  striped  or  streaked  with  darker  lines  in  the  same 
direction  as  those  on  his  native  foliage.  When,  on  the 
contrary,  he  lives  upon  broader  leaves,  provided  with  a 
midrib  and  branching  veins,  his  stripes  and  streaks  (not  to 
be  out  of  the  fashion)  run  transversely  and  obliquely,  at 
exactly  the  same  angle  as  those  of  his  wonted  food-plant. 
Very  often,  if  you  take  a  green  caterpillar  of  this  sort  away 
from  his  natural  surroundings,  you  will  be  surprised  at  the 
conspicuousness  of  his  pale  lilac  or  mauve  markings  ;  surely, 
you  will  think  to  yourself,  such  very  distinct  variegation  as 
that  must  betray  him  instantly  to  his  watchful  enemies. 
But  no ;  if  you  replace  him  gently  where  you  first  found 
him,  you  will  see  that  the  lines  exactly  harmonise  with  the 
joints  and  shading  of  his  native  leaf:   they  are  delicate 


STRICTLY  INCOO.  69 

representations  of  the  soft  shadow  cast  by  a  rib  or  vein,  and 
the  local  colour  is  precisely  what  a  painter  would  have  had 
to  use  in  order  to  produce  the  corrospondinj,'  eilect.  Tlio 
shadow  of  yellowish  prcon  is,  of  course,  always  purplish 
or  lilac.  It  may  at  first  sight  seem  surprising  that  a 
caterpillar  should  possess  so  much  artistic  sense  and  dex- 
terity ;  but  then  the  penalty  for  bunghng  or  inharmonious 
work  is  so  very  severe  as  necessarily  to  stimulate  his  imitative 
genius.  Birds  are  for  ever  hunting  him  down  among  the 
green  leaves,  and  only  those  caterpillars  which  effectually 
deceive  them  by  their  admirable  imitations  can  ever  ho])e 
to  sur\'ive  and  become  the  butterflies  who  hand  on  their 
larval  peculiarities  to  after  ages.  Need  I  add  that  the 
variations  are,  of  course,  unconscious,  and  that  accident  in 
the  first  place  is  ultimately  answerable  for  each  fresh  step 
in  the  direction  of  still  closer  simulation  ? 

The  geometric  motlis  have  brown  caterpillars,  wliich 
generally  stand  erect  when  at  rest  on  the  branches  of  trees 
and  so  resemble  small  twigs ;  and,  in  order  that  the  resem- 
blance may  be  the  more  striking,  they  are  often  covered  with 
tiny  warts  which  look  like  buds  or  knots  upon  the  surface. 
The  larva  of  that  familiar  and  much-dreaded  insect,  the 
death's-head  hawk-moth,  feeds  as  a  rule  on  the  foliage  of 
the  potato,  and  its  very  varied  colouring,  as  Sir  John  Lub- 
bock has  pointed  out,  so  beautifully  harmonises  with  the 
brown  of  the  earth,  the  yellow  and  green  of  the  leaves, 
and  the  faint  purplish  blue  of  the  lurid  flowers,  that  it  can 
only  be  distinguished  when  the  eye  happens  accidentally  to 
focus  itself  exactly  upon  the  spot  occupied  by  the 
unobtrusive  caterpillar.  Other  larvcB  which  frequent 
pine  trees  have  their  bodies  covered  with  tufts  of  green  hairs 
that  serve  to  imitate  the  peculiar  pine  foliage.  One  queer 
httle  caterpillar,  which  lives  upon  the  hoary  foliage  of 
the  sea-buckthorn,  has  a  grey-green  body,  just  like  the 


60  STKICTLY  INCOG. 

buckthorn  leaves,  relieved  by  a  very  conspicuous  red  spot 
which  really  represents  in  size  and  colour  one  of  the  berries 
that  grow  around  it.  Finally  the  larva  of  the  elephant 
hawk-moth,  which  grows  to  a  very  large  size,  has  a  pair  of 
huge  spots  that  seem  Uke  great  eyes  ;  and  direct  experiment 
establishes  the  fact  that  small  birds  mistake  it  for  a  young 
snake,  and  stand  in  terrible  awe  of  it  accordingly,  though 
it  is  in  reality  a  perfectly  harmless  insect,  and  also,  as  I 
am  credibly  informed  (for  I  cannot  speak  upon  the  point 
from  personal  experience),  a  very  tasty  and  well-flavoured 
insect,  and  *  quite  good  to  eat '  too,  says  an  eminent 
authority.  One  of  these  big  snake-like  caterpillars  once 
frightened  Mr.  Bates  himself  on  the  banks  of  the  Amazon. 
Now,  I  know  that  cantankerous  person,  the  universal 
objector,  has  all  along  been  bursting  to  interrupt  me  and 
declare  that  he  himself  frequently  finds  no  end  of  cater- 
pillars, and  has  not  the  slightest  difliculty  at  all  in  distin- 
guishing them  with  the  naked  eye  from  the  leaves  and 
plants  among  which  they  are  lurking.  But  observe  how 
promptly  we  crush  and  demolish  this  very  inconvenient 
and  disconcerting  critic.  The  caterpillars  he  finds  are 
almost  all  hairy  ones,  very  conspicuous  and  easy  to  discover 
— 'woolly  bears,'  and  such  like  common  and  unclean  crea- 
tures— and  the  reason  they  take  no  pains  to  conceal  them- 
selves from  his  unobservant  eyes  is  simply  this :  nobody  on 
earth  wants  to  discover  them.  For  either  they  are  pro- 
tectively encased  in  horrid  hairs,  which  get  down  your 
throat  and  choke  you  and  bother  you  (I  speak  as  a  bird, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  a  confirmed  caterpillar  eater),  or 
else  they  are  bitter  and  nasty  to  the  taste,  like  the  larva  of 
the  spurge  moth  and  the  machaon  butterfly.  These  are 
the  ordinary  brown  and  red  and  banded  caterpillars  that 
the  critical  objoctor  finds  in  hundreds  on  his  peregrinations 
about  his  own  garden — commonplace  things  which  the 


STIIICTLY  INCOO.  61 

experienced  naturalist  has  long  since  got  utterly  tired  of. 
But  has  your  rash  objector  ever  lighted  upon  that  rare  larva 
which  lives  among  the  periwinkles,  and  exactly  imitates  a 
periwinkle  petal  ?  Has  he  ever  discovered  those  deceptive 
creatures  which  pretend  for  all  the  world  to  be  leaves  of 
lady's-bedstraw,  or  dress  themselves  up  as  flowers  of 
buttonweed  ?  Has  he  ever  hit  upon  those  immoral  cater- 
pillars which  wriggle  through  life  upon  the  false  pretence 
that  they  are  only  the  shadows  of  projecting  ribs  on  the 
under  surface  of  a  full-grown  lime  leaf  ?  No,  not  he  ;  he 
passes  them  all  by  without  one  single  glance  of  recognition  ; 
and  when  the  painstaking  naturalist  who  has  hunted  them 
every  one  down  with  lens  and  butterfly  net  ventures  tenta- 
tively to  describe  their  personal  appearance,  he  comes  up 
smiling  with  his  great  russet  woolly  bear  comfortably  nest- 
ling upon  a  green  cabbage  leaf,  and  asks  you  in  a  voice  of 
triumphant  demonstration,  where  is  the  trace  of  conceal- 
ment or  disguise  in  that  amiable  but  very  inedible  insect  ? 
Go  to.  Sir  Critic,  I  will  have  none  of  you ;  I  only  use  you 
for  a  metaphorical  marionette  to  set  up  and  knock  down 
again,  as  Mr.  Pimch  in  the  street  show  knocks  down  the 
policeman  who  comes  to  arrest  liim,  and  the  grimy  black 
personage  of  sulphurous  antecedents  who  pops  up  with  a 
fizz  through  the  floor  of  his  apartment. 

Queerer  still  than  the  caterpillars  which  pretend  to  be 
leaves  or  flowers  for  the  sake  of  protection  are  those  truly 
diabolical  and  perfidious  Brazilian  spiders  which,  as  Mr. 
Bates  observed,  are  brilliantly  coloured  with  crimson  and 
purple,  but  *  double  themselves  up  at  the  base  of  leaf-stalka, 
so  as  to  resemble  flower  buds,  and  thus  deceive  the  insects 
upon  which  they  prey.'  There  is  something  hideously 
wicked  and  cruel  in  this  lowest  depth  of  imitative  infamy, 
A  flower-bud  is  something  so  innocent  and  childlike ;  and 
to  disguise  oneself  as  such  for  purposes  of  murder  and 


62  STRICTLY  INCOG, 

rapine  argues  the  final  abyss  of  arachnoid  perfidy.  It 
reminds  one  of  that  charming  and  amiable  young  lady  in 
Mr.  Robert  Louis  Stevenson's  *  Dynamiter,'  who  amused 
herself  in  moments  of  temporary  gaiety  by  blowing  up 
inhabited  houses,  inmates  and  all,  out  of  pure  lightness 
of  heart  and  girUsh  frivolity.  An  Indian  mantis  or  praying 
insect,  a  little  less  wicked,  though  no  less  cruel  than  the 
spiders,  deceives  the  flies  who  come  to  his  arms  under  the 
false  pretence  of  being  a  quiet  leaf,  upon  which  they  may 
light  in  safety  for  rest  and  refreshment.  Yet  another 
abandoned  member  of  the  same  family,  relying  boldly  upon 
the  resources  of  tropical  nature,  gets  itself  up  as  a  complete 
orchid,  the  head  and  fangs  being  moulded  in  the  exact  image 
of  the  beautiful  blossom,  and  the  arms  folding  treacher- 
ously around  the  unhappy  insect  which  ventures  to  seek 
for  honey  in  its  deceptive  jaws. 

Happily,  however,  the  tyrants  and  murderers  do  not 
always  have  things  all  their  own  way.  Sometimes  the  in- 
offensive prey  tm'n  the  tables  upon  their  torturers  with 
distinguished  success.  For  example,  Mr.  Wallace  noticed 
a  kind  of  sand- wasp,  in  Borneo,  much  given  to  devouring 
crickets  ;  but  there  was  one  species  of  cricket  which  exactly 
reproduced  the  features  of  the  sand- wasps,  and  mixed  among 
them  on  equal  terms  without  fear  of  detection.  Mr.  Belt 
saw  a  green  leaf-like  locust  in  Nicaragua,  overrun  by 
foraging  ants  in  search  of  meat  for  dinner,  but  remaining 
perfectly  motionless  all  the  time,  and  evidently  mistaken 
by  the  hungry  foragers  for  a  real  piece  of  the  fohage  it 
mimicked.  So  thoroughly  did  this  innocent  locust  under- 
stand the  necessity  for  remaining  still,  and  pretending  to 
be  a  leaf  under  all  advances,  that  even  when  Mr.  Belt  took 
it  up  in  his  hands  it  never  budged  an  inch,  but  strenuously 
preserved  its  rigid  leaf-like  attitude.  As  other  insects 
•  sham  dead,'  this  ingenious  creature  shammed  vegetable. 


STRICTLY  INCOG.  63 

In  order  to  understand  how  cases  like  these  begfin  to 
arise,  we  must  remember  that  first  of  all  they  start  of 
necessity  from  very  slight  and  indefinite  resemblances, 
which  succeed  as  it  were  by  accident  in  occasionally  eluding 
the  vigilance  of  enemies.  Thus,  there  are  stick  insects 
which  only  look  like  long  round  cylinders,  not  obviously 
stick-shaped,  but  rudely  resembling  a  bit  of  wood  in  outline 
only.  These  imperfectly  mimetic  insects  may  often  obtain 
a  casual  immunity  from  attack  by  being  mistaken  for  a 
twig  by  birds  or  Uzards.  There  are  others,  again,  in  which 
natural  selection  has  gone  a  step  further,  so  as  to  produce 
upon  their  bodies  bark-like  colouring  and  rough  patches 
wliich  imitate  knots,  wrinkles,  and  leaf-buds.  In  these 
cases  the  protection  given  is  far  more  marked,  and  the 
chances  of  detection  are  proportionately  lessened.  But 
sharp-eyed  birds,  with  senses  quickened  by  hunger,  the 
true  mother  of  invention,  must  learn  at  last  to  pierce  such 
flimsy  disguises,  and  suspect  a  stick  insect  in  the  most 
innocent-looking  and  apparently  rigid  twigs.  The  final 
step,  therefore,  consists  in  the  production  of  that  extra- 
ordinary actor,  the  Xeroxylus  laceratus,  whose  formidable 
name  means  no  more  than  *  ragged  dry-stick,'  and  which 
really  mimics  down  to  the  minutest  particular  a  broken 
twig,  overgrown  with  mosses,  liverworts,  and  lichens. 

Take,  on  the  other  hand,  the  well-known  case  of  that 
predaceous  mantis  which  exactly  imitates  the  wliite  ants, 
and,  mixing  with  them  like  one  of  their  own  horde,  quietly 
devours  a  stray  fat  termite  or  so,  from  time  to  time,  as 
occasion  ofters.  Here  we  must  suppose  that  the  ancestral 
mantis  happened  to  be  somewhat  paler  and  smaller  than 
most  of  its  fellow-tribesmen,  and  so  at  times  managed  un- 
observed to  mingle  with  the  white  ants,  especially  in  the 
shade  or  under  a  dusky  sky,  much  to  the  advantage  of  its 
own  appetite.     But  the  termites  would  soon  begin  to  ob- 


64  STRICTLY  INCOG. 

serve  the  visits  of  their  suspicious  friend,  and  to  note  their 
coincidence  with  the  frequent  mysterious  disappearance  of 
a  fellow-townsworaan,  evaporated  into  space,  hke  the  miss- 
ing young  women  in  neat  cloth  jackets  who  periodically 
vanish  from  the  London  suburbs.  In  proportion  as  their 
reasonable  suspicions  increased,  the  termites  would  care- 
fully avoid  all  doubtful  looking  mantises ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  they  would  only  succeed  in  making  the  mantises 
which  survived  their  inquisition  grow  more  and  more  closely 
to  resemble  the  termite  pattern  in  all  particulars.  For 
any  mantis  which  happened  to  come  a  little  nearer  the 
white  ants  in  hue  or  shape  would  thereby  be  enabled  to 
make  a  more  secure  meal  upon  his  imfortunate  victims  ; 
and  so  the  very  vigilance  which  the  ants  exerted  agiinst 
his  vile  deception  would  itself  react  in  time  against  their 
own  kind,  by  leaving  only  the  most  ruthless  and  indistin- 
guishable of  their  foes  to  become  the  parents  of  future 
generations  of  mantises. 

Once  more,  the  beetles  and  flies  of  Central  America 
must  have  learned  by  experience  to  get  out  of  the  way  of 
the  nimble  Central  American  lizards  with  great  agility, 
cunning,  and  alertness.  But  green  lizards  are  less  easy  to 
notice  beforehand  than  brown  or  red  ones  ;  and  so  the 
lizards  of  tropical  countries  are  almost  always  bright  green, 
with  complementary  shades  of  yellow,  grey,  and  purple,  just 
to  fit  them  in  with  the  foliage  they  lurk  among.  Every- 
body who  has  ever  hunted  the  green  tree -toads  on  the  leaves 
of  waterside  plants  on  the  Riviera  must  know  how  difficult 
it  is  to  discriminate  these  brilliant  leaf-coloured  creatures 
from  the  almost  identical  background  on  which  they  rest. 
Now,  just  in  proportion  as  the  beetles  and  flies  grow  still 
more  cautious,  even  the  green  lizards  themselves  fail  to 
pick  up  a  satisfactory  livelihood ;  and  so  at  last  we  get  that 
most  remarkable  Nicaraguan  form,  decked  all  round  with 


STRICTLY  INCOG.  65 

leaf-like  expansions,  and  lookincf  so  like  the  foliage  on  which 
it  rests  that  no  beetle  on  earth  can  possibly  detect  it.  The 
more  cunning  you  get  your  detectives,  the  more  cunning  do 
the  thieves  become  to  outwit  them. 

Look,  again,  at  the  curious  life-history  of  the  flies  which 
dwell  as  unbidden  guests  or  social  parasites  in  the  nests 
and  hives  of  wild  honey-bees.  These  burglarious  Hies  are 
belted  and  bearded  in  the  very  selfsame  pattern  as  the 
bumble-bees  themselves ;  but  their  larvae  live  upon  the 
young  grubs  of  the  hive,  and  repay  the  unconscious 
hospitality  of  the  busy  workers  by  devouring  the  future 
hope  of  their  unwilling  hosts.  Obviously,  any  fly  which 
entered  a  bee-hive  could  only  escape  detection  and  extermi- 
nation at  the  hands  (or  stings)  of  its  outraged  inhabitants, 
provided  it  so  far  resembled  the  real  householders  as  to  be 
mistaken  at  a  first  glance  by  the  invaded  community  for  one 
of  its  own  numerous  members.  Thus  any  fly  which  showed 
the  slightest  superficial  resemblance  to  a  bee  might  at  first 
be  enabled  to  rob  honey  for  a  time  with  comparative 
impunity,  and  to  lay  its  eggs  among  the  cells  of  the  help- 
less larvcTB.  But  when  once  the  vile  attempt  was  fairly 
discovered,  the  burglars  could  only  escape  fatal  detection 
from  generation  to  generation  just  in  proportion  as  they 
more  and  more  closely  approximated  to  the  shape  and 
colour  of  the  bees  themselves.  For,  as  Mr.  Belt  has  well 
pointed  out,  while  the  mimicking  species  would  become 
naturally  more  numerous  from  age  to  age,  the  senses  of  the 
mimicked  species  would  grow  sharper  and  sharper  by  con- 
stant practice  in  detecting  and  punishing  the  unwelcome 
intruders. 

It  is  only  in  external  matters,  however,  that  the  appear- 
ance of  such  mimetic  species  can  ever  be  altered.  Their 
imderlying  points  of  structure  and  formative  detail  always 
show  to  the  very  end  (if  only  one  happens  to  observe  them) 


6(>  STRICTLY  INCOG. 

their  proper  place  in  a  scientific  classification.  For  instance, 
these  same  parasitic  flies  which  so  closely  resemble  bees  in 
their  shape  and  colour  have  only  one  pair  of  wings  apiece, 
like  all  the  rest  of  the  fly  order,  while  the  bees  of  course 
have  the  full  complement  of  two  pairs,  an  upper  and  an 
under,  possessed  by  them  in  common  with  all  other  well- 
conducted  members  of  the  hymenopterous  family.  So,  too, 
there  is  a  certain  curious  American  insect,  belonging  to  the 
very  unsavoury  tribe  which  supplies  London  lodging-houses 
with  one  of  their  most  familiar  entomological  specimens  ; 
and  this  cleverly  disguised  little  creature  is  banded  and 
striped  in  every  part  exactly  like  a  local  horaet,  for  whom 
it  evidently  wishes  itself  to  be  mistaken.  If  you  were 
travelling  in  the  wilder  parts  of  Colorado  you  would  find  a 
close  resemblance  to  Buffalo  Bill  was  no  mean  personal 
protection.  Hornets,  in  fact,  are  insects  to  which  birds  and 
other  insectivorous  animals  prefer  to  give  a  very  wide  berth, 
and  the  reason  why  they  should  be  imitated  by  a  defenceless 
beetle  must  be  obvious  to  the  intelligent  student.  But 
while  the  vibrating  wing-cases  of  this  deceptive  masque- 
rader  are  made  to  look  as  thin  and  hornet-like  as  possible, 
in  all  underlying  points  of  structure  any  competent 
naturalist  would  see  at  once  that  the  creature  must  really 
be  classed  among  the  noisome  Hemiptera.  I  seldom 
trouble  the  public  with  a  Greek  or  Latin  name,  but  on  this 
occasion  I  trust  I  may  be  pardoned  for  not  indulging  in  all 
the  ingenuous  bluntness  of  the  vernacular. 

Sometimes  this  efi'ective  mimicry  of  stinging  insects 
seems  to  be  even  consciously  performed  by  the  tiny  actors. 
Many  creatures,  which  do  not  themselves  possess  stings, 
nevertheless  endeavour  to  frighten  their  enemies  by 
assuming  the  characteristic  hostile  attitudes  of  wasps  or 
hornets.  Everybody  in  England  must  be  well  acquainted 
with  those  common  British  earwig-looking  insects,  popularly 


STRICTLY   INCOG.  67 

known  as  the  devil's  coacli-horses,  which,  when  irritated  or 
interfered  with,  cock  up  their  tails  hehind  them  in  the  most 
ag^essive  fashion,  exactly  reproducing  the  threatening 
action  of  an  angry  scorpion.  Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
devil's  coach-horse  is  quite  harmless,  but  I  have  often  seen, 
not  only  little  boys  and  girls,  but  also  chickens,  small  birds, 
and  shrew-mice,  evidently  alarmed  at  his  minatory  attitude. 
So,  too,  the  bumble-bee  flies,  which  are  inoffensive  insects 
got  up  in  sedulous  imitation  of  various  species  of  wild  bee, 
flit  about  and  buzz  angrily  in  the  sunlight,  quite  after  the 
fashion  of  the  insects  they  mimic ;  and  when  disturbed 
they  pretend  to  get  excited,  and  seem  as  if  they  wished  to 
fly  in  their  assailant's  face  and  roundly  sting  him.  This 
curious  instinct  may  be  put  side  by  side  with  the  parallel 
instinct  of  shamming  dead,  possessed  by  many  beetles  and 
other  small  defenceless  species. 

Certain  beetles  have  also  been  modified  so  as  exactly  to 
imitate  wasps  ;  and  in  these  cases  the  beetle  waist,  usually 
so  solid,  thick,  and  clumsy,  grows  as  slender  and  graceful 
as  if  the  insects  had  been  supplied  with  corsets  by  a 
fashionable  "West  End  house.  But  the  greatest  refine- 
ment of  all  is  perhaps  that  noticed  in  certain  allied 
species  which  mimic  bees,  and  which  have  acquired  use- 
less little  tufts  of  hair  on  their  hind  shanks  to  represent 
the  dilated  and  tufted  pollen-gathering  apparatus  of  the 
true  bees. 

I  have  left  to  the  last  the  most  marvellous  cases  of 
mimicry  of  all — those  noticed  among  South  American 
butterflies  by  Mr.  Bates,  who  found  that  certain  edible 
kinds  exactly  resembled  a  handsome  and  conspicuous  but 
bitter-tasted  species  *  in  every  shade  and  stripe  of  colour.' 
Several  of  these  South  American  imitative  insects  long 
deceived  the  very  entomologists  ;  and  it  was  only  by  a  close 
inspection   of  their  structural  differences  that  the  utter 


68  STRICTLY   INCOG. 

distinctness  of  the  mimicliers  and  the  mimicked  was  satis- 
factorily settled.  Scarcely  less  curious  is  the  case  of  Mr. 
Wallace's  Malayan  orioles,  two  species  of  which  exactly 
copy  two  pugnacious  honey- suckers  in  every  detail  of 
plumage  and  coloration.  As  the  honey-suckers  are  avoided 
by  birds  of  prey,  owing  to  their  surprising  strength  and 
pugnacity,  the  orioles  gain  immunity  from  attack  by  their 
close  resemblance  to  the  protected  species.  When  Dr. 
Sclater,  the  distinguished  ornithologist,  was  examining 
Mr.  Forbes's  collections  from  Timorlaut,  even  his  experi- 
enced eye  was  so  taken  in  by  another  of  these  decep- 
tive bird-mimicries  that  he  classified  two  birds  of  totally 
distinct  families  as  two  different  individuals  of  the  same 
species. 

Even  among  plants  a  few  instances  of  true  mimicry 
have  been  observed.  In  the  stony  African  Karoo,  where 
every  plant  is  eagerly  sought  out  for  food  by  the  scanty 
local  fauna,  there  are  tubers  which  exactly  resemble  the 
pebbles  around  them  ;  and  I  have  little  doubt  that  our 
perfectly  harmless  English  dead-nettle  secures  itself  from 
the  attacks  of  browsing  animals  by  its  close  likeness  to  the 
wholly  unrelated,  but  well-protected,  stinging-nettle. 

Finally,  we  must  not  forget  the  device  of  those 
animals  which  not  merely  assimilate  themselves  in  colour 
to  the  ordinary  environment  in  a  general  way,  but  have 
also  the  power  of  adapting  themselves  at  will  to  whatever 
object  they  may  happen  to  lie  against.  Cases  like  that  of 
the  ptarmigan,  which  in  summer  harmonises  with  the 
brown  heather  and  grey  rock,  while  in  winter  it  changes  to 
the  white  of  the  snow-fields,  lead  us  up  gradually  to  such 
ultimate  results  of  the  masquerading  tendency.  There  is 
a  tiny  crustacean,  the  chameleon  shrimp,  which  can  alter 
its  hue  to  that  of  any  material  on  which  it  happens  to 


STRICTLY  INCOG.  69 

rest.  On  a  sandy  bottom  it  appears  grey  or  sand-coloured  ; 
when  lurking  among  seaweed  it  becomes  green,  or  red,  or 
brown,  according  to  the  nature  of  its  momentary  back- 
ground. Probably  the  effect  is  quite  unconscious,  or  at 
least  involuntary,  like  blushing  with  ourselves — and  nobody 
ever  blushes  on  purpose,  though  they  do  say  a  distinguished 
poet  once  complained  that  an  eminent  actor  did  not  follow 
his  stage  directions  because  he  omitted  to  obey  the  rubrical 
remark,  '  Here  Harold  purples  with  anger.'  The  change 
is  produced  by  certain  automatic  muscles  which  force  up 
particular  pigment  cells  above  the  others,  green  coming  to 
the  top  on  a  green  surface,  red  on  a  ruddy  one,  and  brown 
or  grey  where  the  circumstances  demand  them.  Many 
kinds  of  fisli  similarly  alter  their  colour  to  suit  their  back- 
ground by  forcing  forward  or  backward  certain  special 
pigment- cells  known  as  chromatophores,  whose  various 
combinations  produce  at  will  almost  any  required  tone  or 
shade.  Almost  all  reptiles  and  amphibians  possess  the 
power  of  changing  their  hue  in  accordance  with  their  en- 
vironment in  a  very  high  degree  ;  and  among  certain  tree- 
toads  and  frogs  it  is  difficult  to  say  what  is  the  normal 
colouring,  as  they  vary  indefinitely  from  buff  and  dove- 
colour  to  chocolate-brown,  rose,  and  even  lilac. 

But  of  all  the  particoloured  reptiles  the  chameleon  is  by 
far  the  best  known,  and  on  the  whole  the  most  remarkable 
for  his  inconstancy  of  coloration.  Like  a  lacertine  Vicar 
of  Bray,  he  varies  incontinently  from  buff  to  blue,  and  from 
blue  back  to  orange  again,  under  stress  of  circumstances. 
The  mechanism  of  this  curious  change  is  extremely  com- 
plex. Tiny  corpuscles  of  different  pigments  are  sometimes 
hidden  in  the  depths  of  the  chameleon's  skin,  and  some- 
times spread  out  on  its  surface  in  an  interlacing  network  of 
brown  or  purple.  In  addition  to  this  prime  colouring 
matter,  however,  the  animal  also  possesses  a  normal  yellow 


70  STRICTLY   INCOG. 

pigment,  and  a  bluish  layor  in  the  skin  which  acts  hke  the 
iridium  glass  so  largely  employed  by  Dr.  Salviati,  being 
seen  as  straw-coloured  with  a  transmitted  light,  but  as- 
suming a  faint  lilac  tint  against  an  opaque  absorbent  sur- 
face. While  sleeping  the  chameleon  becomes  almost  white 
in  the  shade,  but  if  light  falls  upon  him  he  slowly  darkens 
by  an  automatic  process.  The  movements  of  the  corpuscles 
are  governed  by  opposite  nerves  and  muscles,  which  either 
cause  them  to  bury  themselves  under  the  true  skin,  or  to 
form  an  opaque  ground  behind  the  blue  layer,  or  to  spread 
out  in  a  ramifying  mass  on  the  outer  surface,  and  so  pro- 
duce as  desired  almost  any  necessary  shade  of  grey,  green, 
black,  or  yellow.  It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  many 
chrysalids  undergo  precisely  similar  changes  of  colour  in 
adaptation  to  the  background  against  which  they  suspend 
themselves,  being  grey  on  a  grey  surface,  green  on  a  green 
one,  and  even  half  black  and  half  red  when  hung  up  against 
pieces  of  particoloured  paper. 

Nothing  could  more  beautifully  prove  the  noble  supe- 
riority of  the  human  intellect  than  the  fact  that  while  our 
grouse  are  russet-brown  to  suit  the  bracken  and  heather, 
and  our  caterpillars  green  to  suit  the  lettuce  and  the  cabbage 
leaves,  our  British  soldier  should  be  wisely  coated  in  brilliant 
scarlet  to  form  an  effective  mark  for  the  rifles  of  an  enemy, 
lied  is  the  easiest  of  all  colours  at  which  to  aim  from  a 
great  distance ;  and  its  selection  by  authority  for  the 
uniform  of  unfortunate  Tommy  Atkins  reminds  me  of 
nothing  so  much  as  Mr.  McClelland's  exquisite  suggestion 
that  the  peculiar  brilliancy  of  the  Indian  river  carps  makes 
them  serve  '  as  a  better  mark  for  kingfishers,  terns,  and 
other  birds  which  are  destined  to  keep  the  number  of  these 
fishes  in  check.'  The  idea  of  Providence  and  the  Horse 
Guards  conspiring  to  render  any  creature  an  easier  target 
for  the  attacks  of  enemies  is  worthy  of  the  decadent  school 


STRICTLY  INCOG.  71 

of  natural  history,  and  cannot  for  a  moment  be  dispassioi.- 
ately  considered  by  a  judicious  critic.  Nowadays  we  all 
know  that  the  carp  are  decked  in  crimson  and  blue  to 
please  their  partners,  and  that  soldiers  are  dressed  in 
brilliant  red  to  please— the  sfisthctic  authorities  who  com- 
mand them  from  a  distance. 


72  fcJEVJiN-YEAK  SLIOiPERS 


SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS 

For  many  generations  past  that  problematical  animal,  the 
toad-in-a-hole  (literal,  not  culinary)  has  been  one  of  the 
most  familiar  and  interesting  personages  of  contemporary 
folk-lore  and  popular  natural  history.  From  time  to  time 
he  turns  up  afresh,  with  his  own  wonted  perennial  vigour, 
on  paper  at  least,  in  company  with  the  great  sea-serpent, 
the  big  gooseberry,  the  shower  of  frogs,  the  two-headed 
calf,  and  all  the  other  common  objects  of  the  country  or 
the  seaside  in  the  silly  season.  No  extraordinary  natural 
phenomenon  on  earth  was  ever  better  vouched  for — in 
the  fashion  rendered  familiar  to  us  by  the  Tichborne 
claimant— that  is  to  say,  no  other  could  ever  get  a  larger 
number  of  unprejudiced  witnesses  to  swear  positively  and 
unreservedly  in  its  favour.  Unfortunately,  however,  swear- 
ing alone  no  longer  settles  causes  oH'hand,  as  if  by  show  of 
hands,  *  the  Ayes  have  it,'  after  the  fashion  prevalent  in  the 
good  old  days  when  the  whole  Plundred  used  to  testify  that 
of  its  certain  knowledge  John  Nokes  did  not  commit  such 
and  such  a  murder  ;  whereupon  John  Nokes  was  forthwith 
acquitted  accordingly.  Nowadays,  both  justice  and  science 
have  become  more  exacting  ;  they  insist  upon  the  unpleas- 
ant and  discourteous  habit  of  cross-examining  their  witnesses 
(as  if  they  doubted  them,  forsooth  1),  instead  of  accepting 
the  witnesses'  own  simple  assertion  that  it's  all  right,  and 
there's  no  need  for  making  a  fuss  about  it.  Did  you 
yourself  see  the  block  of  stone  in  which  the  toad  is  said 


8KVKN-YEAR  SLEEI'KRS  73 

to  have  been  found,  before  the  toad  himself  was  actually 
extracted  ?  Did  you  examine  it  all  round  to  make  quite  sure 
thert^  was  no  hole,  or  crack,  or  passa^'c  in  it  anywhere? 
Did  you  satisfy  yourself  after  the  toad  was  released  from 
his  close  quarters  that  no  such  hole,  or  crack,  or  passa<j;e 
had  been  dexterously  closed  up,  with  intent  to  deceive,  by 
plaster,  cement,  or  other  aitilicial  composition?  Did  you 
ever  offer  the  workmen  who  found  it  a  nominal  reward — 
say  five  shillings — for  the  first  perfectly  unanswerable 
specimen  of  a  genuine  unadulterated  antediluvian  toad  ? 
Have  you  got  the  toad  now  present,  and  can  you  produce 
him  here  in  court  (on  writ  of  habeas  corpus  or  otherwise), 
together  with  all  the  fragments  of  the  stone  or  tree  from 
which  he  was  extracted  ?  These  are  the  disagreeable, 
prying,  inquisitorial,  I  may  even  say  insulting,  questions 
with  which  a  modern  man  of  science  is  ready  to  assail  the 
truthful  and  reputable  gentlemen  who  venture  to  assert 
their  discovery,  in  these  degenerate  days,  of  the  ancient 
and  unsophisticated  toad-in-a-hole. 

Now,  the  worst  of  it  is  that  the  gentlemen  in  question, 
being  unfamiliar  with  what  is  technically  described  as 
scientific  methods  of  investigation,  are  very  apt  to  lose  their 
temper  when  thus  cross-questioned,  and  to  reply,  after  the 
fashion  usually  attributed  to  the  female  mind,  with  another 
question,  whether  the  scientific  person  wishes  to  accuse 
them  of  downright  lying.  And  as  nothing  on  earth  could 
be  further  from  the  scientific  person's  mind  than  such  an 
imputation,  he  is  usually  fain  in  the  end  to  give  up  the 
social  pursuit  of  postprandial  natural  history  (the  subject 
generally  crops  up  about  the  same  time  as  the  alter-diimer 
coffee),  and  to  let  the  prehistoric  toad  go  on  his  own 
triumphant  way,  unheeded. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  nobody  ever  makes  larger  allow- 
ances for  other  people,  in  the  estimate  of  their  veracity, 


74  SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS 

than  the  scientific  inquirer.  Knowing  himself,  by  painful 
experience,  how  extremely  difficult  a  matter  it  is  to  make 
perfectly  sure  you  have  observed  anything  on  earth  quite 
correctly,  and  have  eliminated  all  possible  chances  of  error, 
he  acquires  the  fixed  habit  of  doubting  about  one-half  of 
whatever  his  fellow-creatures  tell  him  in  ordinary  conversa- 
tion, without  for  a  single  moment  venturing  to  suspect  them 
of  deliberate  untruthfulness.  Children  and  servants,  if  they 
find  that  anything  they  have  been  told  is  erroneous,  immedi- 
ately jump  at  the  conclusion  that  the  person  who  told  them 
meant  deliberately  to  deceive  them ;  in  their  own  simple 
and  categorical  fashion  they  answer  plumply,  *  That's  a  lie.' 
But  the  man  of  science  is  only  too  well  acquainted  in  his 
own  person  with  the  exceeding  difficulty  of  ever  getting  at 
the  exact  truth.  He  has  spent  hours  of  toil,  himself,  in 
■watching  and  observing  tlie  behaviour  of  some  plant,  or 
animal,  or  gas,  or  metal ;  and  after  repeated  experiments, 
carefully  designed  to  exclude  all  possibility  of  mistake,  so 
far  as  he  can  foresee  it,  he  at  last  believes  he  has  really 
settled  some  moot  point,  and  triumphantly  pubhshes  his 
final  conclusions  in  a  scientific  journal.  Ten  to  one,  the 
very  next  number  of  that  same  journal  contains  a  dozen 
Bupercilious  letters  from  a  dozen  learned  and  high- salaried 
professors,  each  pointing  out  a  dozen  distinct  and  separate 
precautions  which  the  painstaking  observer  neglected  to 
take,  and  any  one  of  which  would  be  quite  sufficient  to  vitiate 
the  whole  body  of  his  observations-  There  ijiight  have  been 
germs  in  the  tube  in  which  he  boiled  the  water  (germs  are 
very  fashionable  just  at  present) ;  or  some  of  the  germs 
might  have  survived  and  rather  enjoyed  the  boihng;  or 
they  might  have  adhered  to  the  under  surface  of  the  cork ; 
or  the  mixture  might  have  been  tampered  with  during  the 
experimenter's  temporary  absence  by  his  son,  aged  ten  years 
(scientific  observers  have  no  right,  apparently,  to  have  sons 


SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS  75 

of  ten  years  old,  except  perhaps  for  purposes  of  psychological 
research) ;  and  so  forth,  ad  infinitum.  And  the  worst  of  it 
all  is  that  the  unliappy  experimenter  is  bound  himself  to 
admit  that  every  one  of  the  objections  is  perfectly  valid,  and 
that  he  very  likely  never  really  saw  what  with  perfect 
confidence  he  thought  and  said  he  had  seen. 

This  being  an  unbelieving  age,  then,  when  even  the 
book  of  Deuteronomy  is  *  critically  examined,'  let  us  see  how 
much  can  really  be  said  for  and  against  our  old  friend,  the 
toad-in-a-hole ;  and  first  let  us  begin  with  the  antecedent 
probabihty,  or  otherwise,  of  any  animal  being  able  to  live 
in  a  more  or  less  torpid  condition,  without  air  or  food,  for 
any  considerable  period  of  time  together. 

A  certain  famous  historical  desert  snail  was  brought 
from  Egypt  to  England  as  a  conchological  specimen  in  the 
year  1846.  This  particular  mollusk  (the  only  one  of  his 
race,  probably,  who  ever  attained  to  individual  distinction), 
at  the  time  of  his  arrival  in  London,  was  really  alive  and 
vigorous ;  but  as  the  authorities  of  the  British  Museum, 
to  v^hosG  tender  care  he  was  consigned,  were  ignorant  of 
this  important  fact  in  his  economy,  he  was  gummed,  mouth 
downward,  on  to  a  piece  of  cardboard,  and  duly  labelled 
and  dated  with  scientific  accuracy,  ^  Helix  descrtorum, 
March  25,  184G.'  Being  a  snail  of  a  retiring  and  con- 
tented disposition,  however,  accustomed  to  long  droughts 
and  corresponding  naps  in  his  native  sand-wastes,  our 
mollusk  thereupon  simply  curled  himself  up  into  the  top- 
most recesses  of  his  own  whorls,  and  went  placidly  to  sleep 
in  perfect  contentment  for  an  unlimited  period.  Every 
conchologist  takes  it  for  granted,  of  course,  that  the  sliells 
which  he  receives  from  foreign  parts  have  had  their  inhabi- 
tants properly  boiled  and  extracted  before  being  exported  ; 
for  it  is  only  the  mere  outer  shell  or  skeleton  of  the  animal 
that  we  preserve  in  our  cabinets,  leaving  the  actual  flesh 


76  SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS 

and  muscles  of  the  creature  himself  to  wither  unobserved 
upon  its  native  shores.  At  the  IJritish  Museum  the  desert 
snail  might  have  snoozed  away  his  inglorious  existence  un- 
suspected, but  for  a  happy  accident  which  attracted  public 
attention  to  his  remarkable  case  in  a  most  extraordinary 
manner.  On  March  7,  1850,  nearly  four  years  later,  it 
was  casually  observed  that  the  card  on  which  he  reposed 
was  sHghtly  discoloured  ;  and  this  discovery  led  to  the 
suspicion  that  perhaps  a  living  aninuil  might  be  temporarily 
immured  within  that  papery  tomb.  The  Museum  author- 
ities accordingly  ordered  our  friend  a  warm  bath  (who  shall 
say  hereafter  that  science  is  unfeeling!),  upon  which  the 
grateful  snail,  waking  up  at  the  touch  of  the  familiar 
moisture,  put  his  head  cautiously  out  of  his  shell,  walked 
up  to  the  top  of  the  basin,  and  began  to  take  a  cursory 
survey  of  British  institutions  with  his  four  eye-bearing 
tentacles.  Ho  strange  a  recovery  from  a  long  torpid  condi- 
tion, only  equalled  by  that  of  the  Seven  Sleepers  of  Ephesus, 
deserved  an  exceptional  amount  of  scientific  recognition. 
The  desert  snail  at  once  awoke  and  found  himself  famous. 
Nay,  he  actually  sat  for  his  portrait  to  an  eminent  zoo- 
logical artist,  Mr.  Waterh,use;  and  a  woodcut  from  the 
sketch  thus  procured,  with  a  history  of  his  life  and  ad- 
ventures, may  bo  found  even  unto  this  day  in  Dr.  Wood- 
ward's '  Manual  of  the  Mollusca,'  to  witness  if  I  lie. 

I  montion  this  curious  instance  first,  because  it  is  the 
best  authenticated  case  on  record  (so  far  as  my  knowledge 
goes)  of  any  animal  existing  in  a  state  of  suspended  anima- 
tion for  any  long  period  of  time  together.  But  there  are 
other  cases  of  encysted  or  immured  animals  which,  though 
less  striking  as  regards  tho  length  of  time  during  which 
torpidity  has  been  observed,  are  much  more  closely 
analogous  to  the  real  or  mythical  conditions  of  the  toad-in- 
a-hole.     That  curious  West  African  mud-fish,  the  Lepido* 


SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS  77 

siren  (familiar  to  all  readers  of  evolutionary  literature  as 
one  of  the  most  singular  existing  links  between  fish  and 
amphibians),  lives  among  tlie  shallow  pools  and  broads  of 
the  Gambia,  which  are  dried  up  during  the  greater  part  of 
the  tropical  summer.  To  provide  against  this  animal  con- 
tingency, the  mud-fish  retires  into  the  soft  clay  at  the 
bottom  of  the  pools,  where  it  forms  itself  a  sort  of  nest, 
and  there  hibernates,  or  rather  test'"ates,  for  months 
together,  in  a  torpid  condition.  The  surrounding  mud 
then  hardens  into  a  dry  ball ;  and  these  balls  are  dug  out 
of  the  soil  of  the  rice-fields  by  the  natives,  with  the  fish 
inside  them,  by  which  means  many  specimens  of  lepidosiren 
have  been  sent  alive  to  Europe,  embedded  in  their  natural 
covering.  Here  the  strange  lish  is  chiefly  prized  as  a  zoo- 
logical curiosity  for  aquariums,  because  of  its  possessing 
gills  and  lungs  togetli  r,  to  fit  it  for  its  double  existence ; 
but  the  unsophisticated  West  Africans  grub  it  up  on  their 
own  account  as  a  delicacy,  regardless  of  its  claims  to 
scientific  consideration  as  tlie  earliest  known  ancestor  of 
all  existing  terrestrial  animals.  Now,  the  torpid  state  of 
the  mud-fish  in  his  hardened  ball  of  clay  closely  resembles 
the  real  or  supposed  condition  of  the  toad-in-a-hole ;  but 
with  one  important  exception.  The  mud-fish  leaves  a 
small  canal  or  pipe  open  in  his  cell  at  either  end  to  admit 
the  air  for  breathing,  thougli  he  breathes  (as  I  shall  pro- 
ceed to  explain)  in  a  very  slight  degree  during  his 
flBstivatioii ;  whereas  every  proper  toad-in-a-hole  ought  by 
all  accounts  to  live  entirely  without  either  feeding  or 
breathing  in  any  way.  However,  this  is  a  mere  detail ; 
and  indeed,  if  toads-in-a-hole  do  really  exist  at  all,  we  must 
in  all  probability  ultimately  admit  that  they  breathe  to 
some  extent,  though  perhaps  very  slightly,  during  their 
long  immurement. 

And  this  leads  us  on  to  consider  wiiat  in  reality  hiber- 


78  SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS 

nation  is.  Everybody  knows  nowadays,  I  suppose,  that 
there  is  a  very  close  analogy  between  an  animal  and  a 
steam-engine.  Food  is  the  fuel  that  makes  the  animal 
engine  go  ;  and  this  food  acts  almost  exactly  as  coal  does 
in  the  artificial  machine.  But  coal  alone  will  not  drive  an 
engine  ;  a  free  draught  of  open  air  is  also  required  in  order 
to  produce  combustion.  Just  in  like  manner  the  food  we 
eat  cannot  be  utilised  to  drive  our  muscles  and  other  organs 
unless  it  is  supplied  with  oxygen  from  the  air  to  burn  it 
Blowly  inside  our  bodies.  This  oxygen  is  taken  into  the 
system,  in  all  higher  animals,  by  means  of  limgs  or  gills. 
Now,  when  we  are  working  at  all  hard,  we  require  a  great 
deal  of  oxygen,  as  most  of  us  have  familiarly  discovered 
(especially  if  we  are  somewhat  stout)  in  the  act  of  climbing 
hills  or  running  to  catch  a  tram.  But  when  we  are  doing 
very  little  work  indeed,  as  in  our  sleeping  hours,  during 
which  muscular  movement  is  suspended,  and  only  the 
general  organic  life  continues,  we  breathe  much  more 
slowly  and  at  longer  intervals.  However,  there  is  this 
important  difference  (generally  speaking)  between  an 
animal  and  a  steam-engine.  You  can  let  the  engine  run 
short  of  coals  and  come  to  a  dead  standstill,  without  im- 
pairing its  future  possibilities  of  similar  motion ;  you  have 
only  to  get  fresh  coals,  after  weeks  or  months  of  inaction, 
and  light  up  a  fresh  fire,  when  your  engine  will  immediately 
begin  to  work  again,  exactly  the  same  as  before.  But  if  an 
animal  organism  once  fairly  runs  down,  either  from  want 
of  food  or  any  other  cause  -  in  short,  if  it  dies — it  very 
seldom  comes  to  life  again. 

I  say  *  very  seldom  '  on  purpose,  because  there  are  a  few 
cases  among  the  extreme  lower  animals  where  a  water- 
haunting  creature  can  be  taken  out  of  the  water  and  can 
be  thoroughly  uned  and  desiccated,  or  even  kept  for  an 
j^pparently  unlimited  period  wrapped  up  in  paper  or  on  the 


SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS  70 

slide  of  a  microscope  ;  and  yet,  the  moment  a  drop  of  water 
is  placed  on  top  of  it,  it  bej^ins  to  move  and  live  again 
exactly  as  before.  This  sort  of  thorough-going  suspended 
animation  is  the  kind  we  ought  to  expect  from  any  well- 
constituted  and  proper-minded  toad-in-a-hole.  Whether 
anything  like  it  ever  really  occurs  in  the  higher  ranks  of 
animal  life,  however,  is  a  different  question  ;  but  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  to  some  slight  extent  a  body  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  quite  dead  (physically  speaking)  by  long 
immersion  in  water — a  drowned  man,  for  example — may 
really  be  resuscitated  by  heat  and  stimulants,  applied 
immediately,  provided  no  part  of  the  working  organism  has 
been  seriously  injured  or  decomposed.  Such  people  may 
be  said  to  be  yro  tcm.  functionally,  though  not  structurally, 
dead.  The  heart  has  practically  ceased  to  beat,  the  lungs 
have  ceased  to  breathe,  and  physical  life  in  the  body  is 
temporarily  extinct.  The  fire,  in  short,  has  gone  out.  But 
if  only  it  can  be  lighted  again  before  any  serious  change  in 
the  system  takes  place,  all  may  still  go  on  precisely  as  of 
old. 

Many  animals,  however,  find  it  convenient  to  assume  a 
state  of  less  comple>:e  suspended  animation  during  certain 
special  periods  of  the  year,  according  to  the  circumstances 
of  their  peculiar  climate  and  mode  of  life.  Among  the 
very  highest  animals,  the  most  familiar  example  of  this 
sort  of  semi- torpidity  is  to  be  found  among  the  bears  and 
the  dormice.  The  common  European  brown  bear  is  a 
carnivore  by  descent,  who  has  become  a  vegetarian  in 
practice,  though  whether  from  conscientious  scruples  or 
mere  practical  considerations  of  expediency,  does  not  ap- 
pear. He  feeds  chiefly  on  roots,  berries,  fruits,  vegetables 
and  honey,  all  of  which  he  finds  it  comparatively  difficult 
to  procure  during  winter  weather.  Accordingly,  as  every- 
one knows,  he  eats  immoderately  in  the  summer  season,  till 


80  SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS 

he  has  pn^own  fat  enoii^^h  to  supply  bear's  pfrease  to  all 
Christendom.  Tlicn  he  hunts  himself  out  a  hollow  tree  or 
rock-shelter,  curls  himself  up  quietly  to  sleep,  and  snores 
away  the  whole  livelonp;  winter.  Durinfr  this  period  of 
hibernation,  the  action  of  the  heart  is  reduced  to  a  minimum, 
and  the  bear  breathes  but  very  slowly.  Still,  he  does 
breathe,  and  his  heart  does  beat ;  and  in  performing  those 
indispensable  functions,  all  his  store  of  accumulated  fat  is 
gradually  used  up,  so  that  he  wakes  in  spring  as  thin  as  a 
lath  and  as  hungry  as  a  hunter.  The  machine  has  been 
working  at  very  low  pressure  all  the  winter :  but  it  has 
been  working  for  all  that,  and  the  continuity  of  its  action 
has  never  once  for  a  moment  been  interrupted.  This  is  the 
central  principle  of  all  hibernation  ;  it  consists  essentially 
of  a  very  long  and  profound  sleep,  during  which  all  muscular 
motion,  except  that  of  the  heart  and  lungs,  is  completely 
suspended,  while  even  these  last  are  reduced  to  the  very 
smallest  amount  compatible  with  the  final  restoration  of 
full  animal  activity. 

Thus,  even  among  warm-blooded  animals  like  the  bears 
and  dormice,  hibernation  actually  occurs  to  a  very  con- 
siderable degree  ;  but  it  is  far  more  common  and  more 
complete  among  cold-blooded  creatures,  whose  bodies  do 
not  need  to  be  kept  heated  to  the  same  degree,  and  with 
whom,  accordingly,  hibernation  becomes  almost  a  complete 
torpor,  the  breathing  and  the  action  of  the  heart  being  still 
further  reduced  to  very  nearly  zero.  Mollusks  in  particular, 
like  oysters  and  mussels,  lead  very  monotonous  and  un- 
eventful lives,  only  varied  as  a  rule  by  the  welcome  change 
of  being  cut  out  of  their  shells  and  eaten  alive  ;  and  their 
powers  of  living  without  food  under  adverse  circumstances 
are  really  very  remarkable.  Freshwater  snails  and  mussels, 
in  cold  weather,  bury  themselves  in  the  mud  of  ponds  or 
rivers ;  and  land -snails  hide  themselves  in  the  ground  or 


SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS  81 

under  moss  and  leaves.  Tlie  heart  tlien  ceases  perceptibly 
to  beat,  but  respiration  continues  in  a  very  faint  deforce. 
The  common  garden  snail  closes  the  mouth  of  his  shell 
when  he  wants  to  hibernate,  with  a  slimy  covering' ;  but  he 
leaves  a  very  small  hole  in  it  somewhere,  so  as  to  allow  a 
little  air  to  ^'et  in,  and  keep  up  his  breathing,'  to  a  sli^'ht 
amount.  J\Iy  experience  has  been,  however,  that  a  great 
many  snails  go  to  sleep  in  this  way,  and  never  wake  up 
again.  Either  they  get  frozen  to  death,  or  else  the  respira- 
tion Tails  so  low  that  it  never  picks  itself  up  properly  when 
spring  returns.  In  warm  climates,  it  is  during  the  sunnner 
that  mollusks  and  other  mud-haunting  creatures  go  to 
sleep  ;  and  when  they  get  well  plastered  round  with  clay, 
they  almost  approach  in  tenacity  of  life  the  mildest  recorded 
specimens  of  the  toad-in-a-hole. 

For  example,  take  the  following  cases,  which  I  extract, 
with  needful  simplifications,  from  Dr.  Woodward. 

'  In  June  1850,  a  living  pond  mussel,  which  had  been 
more  than  a  year  out  of  water,  was  sent  to  Mr.  Gray,  from 
Australia.  The  big  pond  snails  of  the  tropics  have  been 
found  alive  in  logs  of  mahogany  imported  from  Honduras  ; 
and  M.  Caillaud  carried  some  from  Egypt  to  Paris,  packed 
in  sawdust.  Indeed,  it  isn't  easy  to  ascertain  the  limit  of 
their  endurance  ;  for  Mr.  Laidlay,  having  placed  a  number 
in  a  drawer  for  this  very  purpose,  found  them  alive  after 
five  years'  toi'pidity,  although  in  the  warm  climate  of 
Calcutta.  The  pretty  snails  called  cyclostomas,  which 
have  a  lid  to  their  shells,  are  well  known  to  survive  im- 
prisonments of  many  months  ;  but  in  the  ordinary  open- 
mouthed  land-snails  such  cases  are  even  more  remarkable. 
Several  of  the  enormous  tropical  snails  often  used  to  decorate 
cottage  mantelpieces,  brought  by  Lieutenant  Greaves  from 
Valparaiso,  revived  after  being  packed,  some  for  thirteen, 
others  for  twenty  months.   In  1849,  Mr.  Pickering  received 


82  SEVEN-YEAR  SLICEPERS 

from  Mr.  Wollaston  a  basketful  of  Madeira  snails  (of 
twenty  or  thirty  different  kinds),  three-fourths  of  which 
proved  to  be  alive,  after  several  months'  confinement, 
including  a  sea  voyage.  Mr.  Wollaston  has  himself 
recorded  the  fact  that  specimens  of  two  Madeira  snails 
survived  a  fast  and  imprisonment  in  pill-boxes  of  two  years 
and  a  half  duration,  and  that  large  numbers  of  a  small 
species,  brought  to  England  at  the  same  time,  were  all 
living  after  being  inclosed  in  a  dry  bag  for  a  year  and  a 
half.' 

Whether  the  snails  themselves  liked  their  long  depri- 
vation of  food  and  moisture  we  are  not  informed ;  their 
personal  tastes  and  inclinations  were  very  little  consulted 
in  the  matter  ;  but  as  they  and  their  ancestors  for  many 
generations  must  have  been  accustomed  to  similar  long 
fasts  during  tropical  droughts,  in  all  likelihood  they  did  not 
much  mind  it. 

The  real  question,  then,  about  the  historical  toad-in-a- 
hole  narrows  itself  down  in  the  end  merely  to  this — how 
long  is  it  credible  that  a  cold-blooded  creature  might  sus- 
tain life  in  a  torpid  or  hibernating  condition,  without  food, 
and  with  a  very  small  quantity  of  fresh  air,  supplied  (let 
us  say)  from  time  to  time  through  an  almost  imperceptible 
f?.ssure  ?  It  is  well  known  that  reptiles  and  amphibians 
are  particularly  tenacious  of  life,  and  that  some  turtles  in 
particular  will  live  for  raonths,  or  even  for  years,  without 
tasting  food.  The  common  Greek  tortoise,  hawked  on 
barrows  about  the  streets  of  London  and  bought  by  a  con- 
fiding British  public  under  the  mistaken  impression  that 
its  chief  fare  consists  of  slugs  and  cockroaches  (it  is  really 
far  more  likely  to  feed  upon  its  purchaser's  choicest  sea- 
kale  and  asparagus),  buries  itself  in  the  ground  at  the  first 
approach  of  winter,  and  snoozes  away  five  months  of  the 
year  in  a  most  comfortable  and  dignified  torpidity.      A 


SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS  83 

snake  at  the  Zoo  has  even  heen  known  to  Hve  eighteen 
months  in  a  voluntary  fust,  refusing  all  the  most  tempting 
offers  of  birds  and  rabbits,  merely  out  of  pique  at  hw 
forcible  confinement  in  a  strange  cage.  As  this  was  a  lady 
snake,  however,  it  is  possible  that  she  only  went  on  living 
out  of  feminine  obstinacy,  so  that  this  case  really  counts  for 
very  little. 

Toads  themselves  are  well  known  to  possess  all  the  quali- 
ties of  mind  and  body  which  go  to  make  up  the  career  of  a 
successful  and  enduring  anchorite.  At  the  best  of  times  they 
eat  seldom  and  sparingly,  while  a  forty  days'  fast,  like  Dr. 
Tanner's,  would  seem  to  them  but  an  ordinary  incident  in 
their  everyday  existence.  In  the  winter  they  hibernate  by 
burying  themselves  in  the  mud,  or  by  getting  down  cracks 
in  the  ground.  It  is  also  undoubtedly  true  that  they  creep 
into  holes  wherever  they  can  find  one,  and  that  in  these 
holes  they  lie  torpid  for  a  considerable  period.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  they  cannot  live 
for  more  than  a  certain  fixed  and  relatively  short  time 
entirely  without  food  or  air.  Dr.  Buckland  tried  a  number 
of  experiments  upon  toads  in  this  manner — experiments 
wholly  unnecessary,  considering  the  trivial  nature  of  the 
point  at  issue— and  his  conclusion  was  that  no  toad  could 
get  beyond  two  years  without  feeding  or  breathing.  There 
can  bo  very  little  doubt  that  in  this  conclusion  he  was 
practically  correct,  and  that  the  real  fine  old  crusted  ante- 
diluvian toad-in-a-hole  is  really  a  snare  and  a  delusion. 

That,  however,  does  not  wholly  settle  the  question 
about  such  toads,  because,  even  though  they  may  not  be 
all  that  their  admirers  claim  for  them,  they  may  yet  pos- 
sess 9.  very  respectable  antiquity  of  their  own,  and  may  be 
very  far  from  the  category  of  mere  vulgar  cheats  and 
impcytors.  Because  a  toad  is  not  as  old  as  Methuselah,  it 
need  not  follow  that  he  may  not  be  as  old  as  Old  Parr  ; 


84  SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS 

because  he  does  not  da-fee  back  to  the  Flood,  it  need  not 
follow  that  he  cannot  remember  Queen  Elizabeth.  There 
are  some  toads-in-a-hole,  indeed,  which,  however  we  may 
account  for  the  orii^in  of  their  le^'end,  are  on  thai  very  face 
of  it  utterly  incredible.  For  example,  there  is  the  favour- 
ite and  immensely  popular  toad  who  was  extracted  from  a 
perfectly  closed  hole  in  a  marble  mantelpiece.  The  impli- 
cation of  the  le;j[end  clearly  is  that  the  toad  was  coeval 
with  the  marble.  Ihit  nuirble  is  limestone,  altered  in  tex- 
ture by  pressure  and  heat,  till  it  has  assumed  a  crystalline 
structure.  In  other  words  we  are  asked  to  believe  that 
that  toad  lived  throu;,'h  an  amount  of  fiery  heat  suflicient 
to  burn  him  up  into  fine  powder,  and  yet  remains  to  tell 
the  tale.  Such  a  toad  as  this  obviously  deserves  no  credit. 
His  discoverers  may  have  believed  in  him  themselves,  but 
they  will  hardly  get  other  people  to  do  so. 

Still,  there  are  a  ^'reat  many  ways  in  which  it  is  quite 
conceivable  that  toads  might  get  into  lioles  in  rocks  or 
trees  so  as  to  give  rise  to  the  common  stories  about  them, 
and  might  even  manage  to  live  there  for  a  considerable 
time  with  very  small  quantities  of  food  or  air.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  from  the  very  nature  of  the  conditions 
the  hole  can  never  be  properly  examined  and  inspected 
until  after  it  has  been  split  open  and  the  toad  has  been  ex- 
tracted from  it.  Now,  if  you  split  open  a  tree  or  a  rock,  and 
find  a  toad  inside  it,  with  a  cavity  which  he  exactly  fills,  it 
is  extremely  difficult  to  say  whether  there  was  or  was  not  a 
fissure  before  you  broke  the  thing  to  pieces  with  your 
hatchet  or  pickaxe.  A  very  small  fissure  indeed  would  be 
quite  sufficient  to  account  for  the  whole  delusion  ;  for  if  the 
toad  could  get  a  little  air  to  breathe  slowly  during  his  torpid 
period,  and  could  find  a  few  dead  flies  or  worms  among  the 
water  that  trickled  scantily  into  his  hole,  he  could  manage  to 
drag  out  a  peaceful  and  monotonous  existence  almost  indefi-* 


SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS  85 

nitely.  Here  are  a  few  possible  cases,  any  one  of  which 
will  quite  suffice  to^'iverise  to  at  least  as  f^ood  a  toad-in-the- 
hole  as  ninety-nine  out  of  a  hundrod  published  instances. 

An  adult  toad  buries  himself  in  thu  mud  by  a  dry  pond, 
and  gets  coated  with  a  hard  solid  coat  of  sun-baked  clay. 
His  nodule  is  broken  open  with  a  spade,  and  the  toad  him- 
self is  found  inside,  almost  exactly  filling  the  space  within 
the  cavity.  He  has  only  been  there  for  a  few  months  at  the 
outside  ;  but  the  clay  is  as  hard  as  a  stone,  and  to  the  bucolic 
mind  looks  as  if  it  might  have  been  there  ever  since  the 
Deluge.  Good  blue  lias  clay,  which  dries  as  solid  as  lime- 
stone, would  perform  this  trick  to  perfection  ;  and  the  toad 
might  easily  be  relegated  accordingly  to  the  secondary 
ages  of  geology.  Observe,  however,  that  the  actual  toads 
so  found  are  not  the  geological  toads  we  should  naturally 
expect  under  such  remarkable  circumstances,  but  the 
common  everyday  toads  of  modern  England.  This  shows 
a  want  of  accurate  scientific  knowledge  on  the  part  of  the 
toads  which  is  truly  lamentable.  A  toad  who  really  wished 
to  qualify  himself  for  the  post  ougbf  at  Ipjist  to  avoid  pre- 
senting himself  before  a  critical  eye  in  the  foolish  guise  of  an 
embodied  anachronism.  He  reminds  one  of  the  Roman 
mother  in  a  popular  burlesque,  who  suspects  her  son  of 
smoking,  and  vehemently  declares  that  she  smells  tobacco, 
but,  after  a  moment,  recollects  the  historical  proprieties, 
and  mutters  to  herself,  apologetically,  '  No,  not  tobacco  ; 
that's  not  yet  invented.'  A  would-be  silurian  or  triassic 
toad  ought,  in  like  maimer,  to  remember  that  in  the  ages 
to  whose  honours  he  aspires  his  own  amphibian  kind  was 
not  yet  developed.  He  ought  rather  to  come  out  in  the 
character  of  a  ceratodus  or  a  labyrinthodon. 

Again,  another  adult  toad  crawls  into  the  hollow  of  a 
tree,  and  there  hibernates.  The  bark  partially  closes  over 
the  slit  by  which  he  entered,  but  leaves  a  little  crack  by 


86  SEVEN-YEAR  SLEEPERS 

which  air  can  enter  freely.  The  grubs  in  the  bark  and  other 
insects  supply  him  from  time  to  time  with  a  frugal  repast. 
There  is  no  good  reason  why,  under  such  circumstances,  a 
placid  and  contented  toad  might  not  manage  to  prolong  his 
existence  for  several  consecutive  seasons. 

Once  more,  the  spawn  of  toads  is  very  small,  as  regards 
the  size  of  the  individual  eggs,  compared  with  the  size  of 
the  full-grown  animal.  Nothing  would  be  easier  than 
for  a  piece  of  spawn  or  a  tiny  tadpole  to  be  washed  into 
some  hole  in  a  mine  or  cave,  where  there  was  sufficient 
water  for  its  developement,  and  where  the  trickling  drops 
brought  down  minute  objects  of  food,  enough  to  keep  up 
its  simple  existence.  A  toad  brought  up  under  such  peculiar 
circumstances  might  pass  almost  its  entire  life  in  a  state  of 
torpidity,  and  yet  might  grow  and  thrive  in  its  own  sleepy 
vegetative  fashion. 

In  short,  while  it  would  be  difficult  in  any  given  case  to 
prove  to  a  certainty  either  that  the  particular  toad-in-a-hole 
had  or  had  not  access  to  air  and  food,  the  ordinary  condi- 
tions of  toad  life  are  exactly  those  under  which  the  delusive 
appearance  of  venerable  antiquity  would  be  almost  certain 
frequently  to  arise.  The  toad  is  a  nocturnal  animal ;  it 
lives  through  the  daytime  in  dark  and  damp  places ;  it 
shows  a  decided  liking  for  crannies  and  crevices  ;  it  is 
wonderfully  tenacious  of  life  ;  it  possesses  the  power  of 
hibernation ;  it  can  live  on  extremely  small  quantities  of 
food  for  very  long  periods  of  time  together ;  it  buries  itself 
in  mud  or  clay ;  it  passes  the  early  part  of  its  life  as  a 
water-haunting  tadpole  ;  and  last,  not  least,  it  can  swell  out 
its  body  to  nearly  double  its  natural  size  by  inflating  itself, 
which  fully  accounts,  for  the  stories  of  toads  being  taken 
out  of  holes  every  bit  as  big  as  themselves.  Considering 
all  these  things,  it  would  be  wonderful  indeed  if  toads  were 
not  often  found  in   places   and  conditions  which  would 


SEVEN-YEAR  SI,EEPERS  87 

naturally  give  rise  to  the  familiar  myth.  Throw  in  a  little 
allowance  for  human  credulity,  humar  exaggeration,  and 
human  love  of  the  marvellous,  and  you  have  all  the  elements 
of  a  very  excellent  toad-in-the-hole  in  the  highest  ideal 
perfection. 

At  the  same  time  I  think  it  quite  possihle  that  some 
toads,  under  natural  circumstances,  do  really  remain  in  a 
torpid  or  semi-torpid  condition  for  a  period  far  exceeding 
the  twenty-four  months  allowed  as  the  maximum  in  Dr. 
Bucldand's  unpleasant  experiments.  If  the  amount  of  air 
supplied  through  a  crack  or  through  the  texture  of  the 
stone  were  exactly  sufficient  for  keeping  the  animal  alive 
in  the  very  slightest  fashion — the  engine  working  at  the 
lowest  possible  pressure,  short  of  absolute  cessation — I  see 
no  reason  on  earth  why  a  toad  might  not  remain  dormant, 
in  a  moist  place,  with  perhaps  a  very  occasional  worm  or 
grub  for  breakfast,  for  at  least  as  long  a  time  as  the  desert 
snail  slept  comfortably  in  the  British  Museum.  Altogether, 
wliile  it  is  impossible  to  believe  the  stories  about  toads  that 
have  been  buried  in  a  mine  for  whole  centuries,  and  still 
more  impossible  to  believe  in  their  being  disentombed  from 
marble  mantelpieces  or  very  ancient  geological  formations 
it  is  quite  conceivable  that  some  toads-in-a-hole  may  really 
be  far  from  mere  vulgar  impostors,  and  may  have  passed  the 
traditional  seven  years  of  the  Indian  philosophers  in  solitary 
meditation  on  the  syllable  Om,  or  on  the  equally  significant 
Ko-ax,  Ko-ax  of  the  irreverent  Attic  dramatist.  *  Certainly 
not  a  centenarian,  but  perhaps  a  good  seven-year  sleeper  for 
all  that,'  is  the  final  verdict  which  the  court  is  disposed  to 
return,  after  due  consideration  of  all  the  probabilities  in  re 
the  toacl-in-a-hole. 


88  A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT 


'    A   FOSSIL   CONTINENT 

If  an  intelligent  Australian  colonist  were  suddenly  to  be 
translated  backward  from  Collins  Street,  Melbourne,  into 
the  flourishing  woods  of  the  secondary  geological  period — 
say  about  the  precise  moment  of  time  when  the  English 
chalk  downs  were  slowly  accumulating,  speck  by  speck,  on 
the  silent  floor  of  some  long-forgotten  Mediterranean — the 
intelligent  colonist  would  look  around  him  with  a  sweet 
smile  of  cheerful  recognition,  and  say  to  himself  in  some 
surprise,  '  Why,  this  is  just  like  Australia.'  The  animals, 
the  trees,  the  plants,  the  insects,  would  all  more  or  less 
vi\ddly  remind  him  of  those  he  had  left  behind  him  in  his 
happy  home  of  the  southern  seas  and  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. The  sun  would  have  moved  back  on  the  dial  of  ages 
for  a  few  million  summers  or  so,  indefinitely  (in  geology 
we  refuse  to  be  bound  by  dates),  and  would  have  landed 
him  at  last,  to  his  immense  astonishment,  pretty  much  at 
the  exact  point  whence  he  first  started. 

In  other  words,  with  a  few  needful  qualifications,  to  be 
made  hereafter,  Australia  is,  so  to  speak,  a  fossil  continent, 
a  country  still  in  its  secondary  age,  a  surviving  iragment 
of  the  primitive  world  of  the  chalk  period  or  earlier  ages. 
Isolated  from  all  the  remainder  of  the  earth  about  the  be- 
ginning of  the  tertiary  epoch,  long  before  the  mannnoth 
and  the  mastodon  had  yet  dreamt  of  appearing  upon  the 
stage  of  existence,  long  before  the  first  shadowy  ancestor 
of  the  horse  had  turned  tail  on  nature's  rough  draft  of  the 


A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT  89 

still  undeveloped  and  unspecialised  lion,  long  before  the 
extinct  dinotheriums  and  ^'if^antic  Irish  elks  and  colossal 
giraffes  of  late  tertiary  times  had  even  begun  to  run  tlieir 
race  on  the  broad  plains  of  Europe  and  America,  the 
Australian  continent  found  itself  at  an  early  period  of  its 
development  cut  off  entirely  from  all  social  intercourse  with 
the  remainder  of  our  planet,  and  turned  upon  itself,  like  the 
German  philosopher,  to  evolve  its  own  plants  and  animals 
out  of  its  own  inner  consciousness.  The  natural  conse- 
quence was  that  progress  in  Australia  has  been  absurdly 
slow,  and  that  the  country  as  a  whole  has  fallen  most  woe- 
fully behind  the  times  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  the 
existence  of  life  upon  its  surface.  Everybody  knows  that 
Australia  as  a  whole  is  a  very  peculiar  and  original  con- 
tinent ;  its  peculiarity,  however,  consists,  at  bottom,  for 
the  most  part  in  the  fact  that  it  still  remains  at  very  nearly 
the  same  early  point  of  development  which  Europe  had 
attained  a  couple  of  million  years  ago  or  thereabouts. 
*  Advance,  Australia,'  says  the  national  motto  ;  and,  indeed, 
it  is  quite  time  nowadays  that  Australia  should  advance ; 
for,  so  far,  she  has  been  left  out  of  the  running  for  some 
four  mundane  ages  or  so  at  a  rough  computation. 

Example,  says  the  wisdom  of  our  ancestors,  is  better 
than  precept ;  so  perhaps,  if  I  take  a  single  example  to 
start  with,  I  shall  make  the  principle  I  wish  to  illustrate  a 
trifle  clearer  to  the  European  comprehension.  In  Australia, 
when  Cook  or  Van  Diemen  first  visited  it,  there  were  no 
horses,  cows,  or  sheep ;  no  rabbits,  weasels,  or  cats ;  no 
indigenous  quadrupeds  of  any  sort  except  the  pouched 
mammals  or  marsupials,  familiarly  typified  to  every  one  of 
us  by  the  mamma  kangaroo  in  Regent's  Park,  who  carries 
the  baby  kangaroos  about  with  her,  neatly  deposited  in  the 
sac  or  pouch  which  nature  has  provided  for  them  instead 
of  a  cradle.     To  this  rough  generalisation,  to  be  sure,  two 


90  A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT 

special  exceptions  must  rxeeds  be  made  ;  namely,  the  noble 
Australian  black-fellow  himself,  and  the  dingo  or  wild  dog, 
whore  ancestors  no  doubt  came  to  the  country  in  the  same 
ship  with  him,  as  the  brown  rat  came  to  England  with 
George  I.  of  blessed  memory.  But  of  these  two  solitary 
representatives  of  the  later  and  higher  Asiatic  fauna  '  more 
anon  ' ;  for  the  present  we  may  regard  it  as  approximately 
true  that  aboriginal  and  unsophisticated  Australia  in  the 
lump  was  wholly  given  over,  on  its  first  discovery,  to 
kangaroos,  phalangers,  dasyures,  wombats,  and  other  quaint 
marsupial  animals,  with  names  as  strange  i  id  clumsy  as 
their  forms. 

Now,  who  and  what  are  the  marsupials  as  a  family, 
viewed  in  the  dry  light  of  modern  science  ?  Well,  they 
are  simply  one  of  the  very  oldest  mammalian  families,  and 
therefore,  I  need  hardly  say,  in  the  levelling  and  topsy- 
turvy view  of  evolutionary  biology,  the  least  entitled  to 
consideration  or  respect  from  rational  observers.  For  of 
course  in  the  kingdom  of  science  the  last  shall  be  first,  and 
the  first  last ;  it  is  the  oldest  families  that  are  accounted 
the  worst,  while  the  best  families  mean  always  the  newest. 
Now,  th  i  earliest  mammals  to  appear  on  earth  were 
creatures  of  distinctly  marsupial  type.  As  long  ago  as  the 
time  when  the  red  marl  of  Devonshire  and  the  blue  lias  of 
Lyme  Regis  were  laid  down  on  the  bed  of  the  muddy  sea 
that  once  covered  the  surface  of  Dorset  and  the  English 
Channel,  a  little  creature  like  the  kangaroo  rats  of  Southern 
Australia  lived  among  the  plains  of  what  is  now  the  south 
of  England.  In  the  ages  succeeding  the  deposition  of  the 
red  marl  Europe  seems  to  have  been  broken  up  into  an 
archipelago  of  coral  reefu  and  atolls  ;  and  the  islands  of 
this  ancient  oolitic  ocean  were  tenanted  by  numbers  of  tiny 
ancestral  marsupials,  some  of  which  approached  in  appear- 
ance the  pouched  ant-eaters  of  Western  Australia,  while 


A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT  91 

others  resembled  rather  the  phalangers  and  wombats,  or 
turned  into  excellent  imitation  carnivores,  like  our  modern 
friend  the  Tasmanian  devil.  Up  to  the  end  of  the  time 
when  the  chalk  deposits  of  Surrey,  Kent,  and  Sussex  wore 
laid  down,  indeed,  there  is  no  evidence  of  the  existence 
anywhere  in  the  world  of  any  mammals  differing  in  type 
from  those  which  now  inhabit  Australia.  In  other  words, 
so  far  as  regards  mammalian  life,  the  whole  of  the  world 
had  then  already  reached  pretty  nearly  the  same  point  of 
evolution  that  poor  Australia  still  sticks  at,, 

About  the  beginning  of  the  tertiary  period,  however, 
just  after  the  chalk  was  all  deposited,  and  just  before  the 
comparatively  modern  clays  and  sandstones  of  the  London 
basin  began  to  be  laid  down,  an  arm  of  the  sea  broke  up 
the  connection  which  once  subsisted  between  Australia  and 
the  rest  of  the  world,  probably  by  a  land  bridge,  vid  Java, 
Sumatra,  the  Malay  peninsula,  and  Asia  generally.  *  But 
how  do  you  know,'  asks  the  candid  inquirer,  '  that  such  a 
connection  ever  existed  at  all  ?  '  Simply  thus,  most  laud- 
able investigator — because  there  are  large  land  mammals 
in  Australia.  Now,  large  land  mammals  do  not  swim 
across  a  broad  ocean.  There  are  none  in  New  Zealand, 
none  in  the  Azores,  none  in  Fiji,  none  in  Tahiti,  none  in 
Madeira,  none  in  Teneriffe — none,  in  short,  in  any  oceanic 
island  which  never  at  any  time  formed  part  of  a  great  con- 
tinent. How  could  there  be,  indeed  ?  The  mammals  must 
necessarily  have  got  there  from  somewhere  ;  and  whenever 
we  find  islands  like  Britain,  or  Japan,  or  Newfoundland,  or 
Sicily,  possessing  large  and  abundant  indigenous  quadru- 
peds, of  the  same  general  type  as  adjacent  continents,  we 
see  at  once  that  the  island  must  formerly  have  been  a  mere 
peninsula,  like  Italy  or  Nova  Scotia  at  the  present  day. 
The  very  fact  that  Australia  incloses  a  large  group  of 
biggish  quadrupeds,  whose  congeners  once  inhabited  Europe 
7 


92  A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT 

and  America,  suffices  in  itself  to  prove  beyond  question 
that  uninterrupted  land  communication  must  once  have 
existed  between  Australia  and  those  distant  continents. 

In  fact,  to  this  day  a  belt  of  very  deep  sea,  known  as 
Wallace's  Line,  from  the  great  naturalist  who  first  pointed 
out  its  far-reaching  zoological  importance,  separates  what 
is  called  by  science  '  the  Australian  province  '  on  the  south- 
west from  '  the  Indo-Malayan  province  '  to  the  north  and 
east  of  it.  This  belt  of  deep  sea  divides  off  sharply  the 
plants  and  animals  of  the  Australian  type  from  those  of 
the  common  Indian  and  Burmese  pattern.  South  of 
Wallace's  Line  we  now  find  several  islands,  big  and  small, 
including  New  Guinea,  Australia,  Tasmania,  the  Moluccas, 
Celebes,  Timor,  Amboyna,  and  Banda.  All  these  lands, 
whose  precise  geographical  position  on  the  map  must  of 
course  be  readily  remembered,  in  this  age  of  school  boards 
and  universal  examination,  by  every  pupil-teacher  and  every 
Girton  girl,  are  now  divided  by  minor  straits  of  much 
shallower  water  ;  but  they  all  stand  on  a  great  submarine 
bank,  and  obviously  formed  at  one  time  parts  of  the  same 
wide  Australian  continent,  because  animals  of  the  Austra- 
lian type  are  still  found  in  every  one  of  them.  No  Indian 
or  Malayan  animal,  however,  of  the  larger  sort  (other  than 
birds)  is  to  be  discovered  anywhere  south  of  Wallace's 
Line.  That  narrow  belt  of  deep  sea,  in  short,  forms  an 
ocean  barrier  which  has  subsisted  there  without  alteration 
ever  since  the  end  of  the  secondary  period.  From  that 
time  to  this,  as  the  evidence  shows  us,  there  has  never  been 
any  direct  land  communication  betw^een  Australia  and  any 
part  of  the  outer  world  beyond  that  narrow  line  of  division. 

Some  years  ago,  in  fact,  a  clever  hoax  took  the  world 
by  surprise  for  a  moment,  under  the  audacious  title  of 
*  Captain  Lawson's  Adventures  in  New  Guinea.'  The 
gallant  captain,  or  his  unknown  creator  in  some  London 


A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT  9:> 

lodging,  pretended  to  have  explored  the  Papuan  jungles, 
and  there  to  have  met  with  marvellous  escapes  from  terrible 
beasts  of  the  common  tropical  Asiatic  pattern — rhinoceroses, 
tigers,  monkeys,  and  leopards,  l^verybody  believed  the 
new  Munchausen  at  first,  except  the  zoologists.  Thoso 
canny  folks  saw  through  the  wicked  hoax  on  the  very  first 
blush  of  it.  If  there  were  rhinoceroses  in  Papua,  they  must 
haVe  got  tliere  by  an  overland  route.  If  there  had  ever 
been  a  land  connection  between  New  Guinea  and  the  ^lalay 
region,  then,  since  Australian  animals  range  into  New 
Guinea,  Malayan  animals  would  have  ranged  into  Australia, 
and  v.'e  should  find  Victoria  and  New  South  Wales  at  the 
present  day  peopled  by  tapirs,  orang-outangs,  wild  boars, 
deer,  elephants,  and  squirrels,  like  those  which  now  people 
Borneo,  instead  of,  or  side  by  side  with,  the  kangaroos, 
wombats,  and  other  marsupials,  which,  as  we  know,  actually 
form  the  sole  indigenous  mammalian  population  of  Greater 
Britain  beneath  the  Southern  Cross.  Of  course,  in  the  end, 
the  mysterious  and  tremendous  Captain  Lawson  proved  to 
be  a  myth,  an  airy  nothing  upon  whom  imagination  had 
bestowed  a  local  habitation  (in  New  Guinea)  and  a  name 
(not  to  be  found  in  the  Army  List).  Wallace's  Line  was 
saved  from  reproach,  and  the  intrusive  rhinoceros  was 
banished  without  appeal  from  the  soil  of  Papua. 

After  the  deep  belt  of  open  sea  was  thus  established 
between  the  bigger  Australian  continent  and  the  Malayan 
region,  however,  the  mammals  of  the  great  mainlands 
continued  to  develop  on  their  own  account,  in  accordance 
with  the  strictest  Darwinian  principles,  among  the  wider 
plains  of  their  own  habitats.  The  competition  there  was 
fiercer  and  more  general ;  the  struggle  for  life  was  bloodier 
and  more  arduous.  Hence,  while  the  old-fashioned  mar- 
supials continued  to  survive  and  to  evolve  slowly  along 
their  own  lines  in  their  own  restricted   southern  world. 


a4  A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT 

their  collateral  dcsccndanta  in  Europe  and  Asia  and  America 
or  elsewhere  went  on  progressing  into  far  hit,'her,  stronger, 
and  better  adapted  forms— the  great  central  mammalian 
fauna.  In  place  of  the  petty  phalangers  and  pouched  ant- 
eaters  of  the  oolitic  period,  our  tertiary  strata  in  the  larger 
continents  show  us  a  rapid  and  extraordinary  development 
of  the  mammalian  race  into  monstrous  creatures,  some  of 
them  now  quite  extinct,  and  some  still  holding  their  own 
undisturbed  in  India,  Africa,  and  the  American  prairies. 
The  palffiotherium  and  the  deinoceras,  the  mastodon  and 
the  mammoth,  the  huge  giraffes  and  antelopes  of  sunnier 
times,  succeed  to  the  ancestral  kangaroos  and  wombats  of 
the  secondary  strata.  Slowly  the  horses  grow  more  horse- 
like, the  shadowy  camel  begins  to  camelise  himself,  the 
buffaloes  acquire  the  rudiments  of  horns,  the  deer  branch 
out  by  tentative  steps  into  still  more  complicated  and  more 
complicated  antlers.  Side  by  side  with  this  wonderful  out- 
growth of  the  mammalian  type,  in  the  first  plasticity  of  its 
vigorous  youth,  the  older  marsupials  die  away  one  by  one 
in  the  geological  record  before  the  faces  of  their  more 
successful  competitors ;  the  new  carnivores  devour  them 
wholesale,  the  new  ruminants  eat  up  their  pastures,  the 
new  rodents  outwit  them  in  the  modernised  forests.  At 
last  the  pouched  creatures  all  disappear  utterly  from  all  the 
world,  save  only  Australia,  with  the  solitary  exception  of  a 
single  advanced  marsupial  family,  the  familiar  opossum  of 
plantation  melodies.  And  the  history  of  the  opossum 
himself  is  so  very  singular  that  it  almost  deserves  to  receive 
the  polite  attention  of  a  separate  paragraph  for  its  own 
proper  elucidation. 

For  the  opossums  form  the  only  members  of  the  mar- 
supial class  now  living  outside  Australia  ;  and  yet,  what  is 
at  least  equally  remarkable,  none  of  the  opossums  are 
found  ]^cr  contra  in  Australia  itself.    They  are,  in  fact,  the 


A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT  95 

highest  and  best  product  of  the  old  dying  marsupial  stock, 
specially  evolved  in  the  great  continents  tlirough  the  fierce 
competition  of  the  higher  mammals  then  being  developed 
on  every  side  of  them.  Therefore,  being  later  in  point  of 
time  than  the  separation,  they  could  no  more  get  over  to 
Australia  than  the  elephants  and  tigers  anl  rhinoceroses 
could.  They  are  the  last  bid  for  life  of  the  marsupial  race 
in  its  hopeless  struggle  against  its  more  developed  mam- 
malian cousins.  In  Europe  and  Asia  the  opossums  lived 
on  lustily,  in  spite  of  competition,  during  the  whole  of  the 
Eocene  period,  side  by  side  with  hog-like  creatures  not  yet 
perfectly  piggish,  with  nondescript  animals,  half  horse  half 
tapir,  and  with  hornless  forms  of  deer  and  antelopes, 
unprovided,  so  far,  with  the  first  rudiment  of  budding 
antlers.  But  in  the  succeeding  age  they  seem  to  disappear 
from  the  eastern  continent,  though  in  the  western,  thanks 
to  their  hand-like  feet,  opposable  thumb,  and  tree-haunting 
life,  they  still  drag  out  a  precarious  existence  in  many  forms 
from  Virginia  to  Chili,  and  from  Brazil  to  California.  It 
is  worth  while  to  notice,  -oo,  that  whereas  the  kangaroos 
and  other  Australian  marsupials  are  proverbially  the  very 
stupidest  of  mammals,  the  opossums,  on  the  contrary,  are 
well  known  to  those  accurate  observers  of  animal  psycho- 
logy, the  plantation  negroes,  to  be  the  very  cleverest, 
cunningest,  and  slyest  of  American  quadrupeds.  In  the 
fierce  struggle  for  life  of  the  crowded  American  lowlands, 
the  opossum  was  absolutely  forced  to  acquire  a  certain 
amount  of  Yankee  smartness,  or  else  to  be  improved  off  the 
face  of  the  earth  by  the  keen  competition  of  the  pouchless 
mammals. 

Up  to  the  day,  then,  when  Captain  Cook  and  Sir  Joseph 
Banks,  landing  for  the  first  time  on  the  coast  of  New  South 
Wales,  saw  an  animal  with  short  front  limbs,  huge  hind 
legs,  a  monstrous  tail,  and  a  curious  habit  of  hopping  along 


96  A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT 

the  /i^round  (called  by  the  natives  a  lianf,'aroo),  the  opossums 
of  America  were  the  only  pouched  mammals  known  to  the 
European  world  in  any  i)art  of  the  explored  continents. 
Australia,  severed  from  all  the  rest  of  the  earth — ^)c«i7?<s 
toto  orbe  divisa — ever  since  the  end  of  the  secondary  period, 
remained  as  yet,  so  to  speak,  in  the  secondary  age  so  far  as 
its  larger  life-elements  were  concerned,  and  presented  to 
the  first  comers  a  certain  vague  ard  indefinite  picture  of 
what  *  the  world  before  the  Hood  '  must  have  looked  like. 
Only  it  was  a  very  remote  flood ;  an  antediluvian  age 
separated  from  our  own  not  by  thousands,  but  by  millions, 
of  seasons. 

To  this  rough  approximate  statement,  however,  sundry 
needful  qualifications  must  be  made  at  the  very  outset. 
No  statement  is  ever  quite  correct  until  you  have  contra- 
dicted in  minute  detail  about  two-thirds  of  it. 

In  the  first  place  there  are  a  good  many  modern 
elements  in  the  indigenous  population  of  Australia ;  but 
then  they  are  elements  of  the  stray  and  casual  sort  one 
always  finds  even  in  remote  oceanic  islands.  They  are 
waifs  wafted  by  accident  from  other  places.  For  example, 
the  fiora  is  by  no  means  exclusively  an  ancient  flora,  for  a 
considerable  number  of  seeds  and  fruits  and  spores  of  ferns 
always  get  blown  by  the  wind,  or  washed  by  the  sea,  or 
carried  on  the  feet  or  feathers  of  birds,  from  one  part  of  the 
world  to  another.  In  all  these  various  ways,  no  doubt,  mo- 
dern plants  from  the  Asiatic  region  have  in\  aded  Australia 
at  different  times,  and  altered  to  some  extent  the  character 
and  aspect  of  its  original  native  vegetation.  Neverthe- 
less, even  in  the  matter  of  its  plants  and  trees,  Australia 
must  still  be  considered  a  very  old-fashioned  and  stick-in 
the-mud  continent.  The  strange  puzzle-monkeys,  the 
quaint -jointed  casuarinas  (like  horsetails  grow^n  into  big 
willows),  and  the  park-like  forests  of  blue  gum-trees,  with 


A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT  97 

their  smooth  stems  robbed  of  tlioir  outer  bark,  impart  a 
marvellously  antiquated  and  unfamiliar  tone  to  the  general 
appearance  of  Australian  woodland.  Vll  these  types  belong 
by  birth  to  classes  long  since  extinct  in  the  larger  conti- 
nents. The  scrub  shows  no  turfy  greensward ;  grasses, 
which  elsewhere  carpet  the  ground,  were  almost  unknown 
till  introduced  from  I'jurope  ;  in  the  wild  lands,  bushes,  and 
undershrubs  of  ancient  aspect  cover  the  soil,  remarkable 
for  their  stiff,  dry,  wiry  foliage,  their  vertically  instead  of 
horizontally  flattened  leaves,  and  their  general  dead  bine- 
green  or  glaucous  colour.  Altogether,  the  vegetation  itself, 
though  it  contains  a  few  more  modern  fonns  than  the 
animal  world,  is  still  essentially  antique  in  type,  a  strange 
survival  from  the  forgotten  flora  of  the  chalk  age,  the  oolite, 
and  even  the  lias. 

Again,  to  winged  animals,  such  as  birds  and  bats  and 
flying  insects,  the  ocean  forms  far  less  of  a  barrier  than  it 
does  to  quadrupeds,  to  reptiles,  and  to  fresh-wat  fishes. 
Hence  Australia  has,  to  some  extent,  been  invaded  by  later 
types  of  birds  and  other  flying  creatures,  who  live  on  there 
side  by  side  with  the  ancient  animals  of  the  secondary 
pattern.  Warblers,  thrushes,  flycatchers,  shrikes,  and 
crows  must  all  be  comparatively  recent  immigrants  from 
the  Asiatic  mainland.  Even  in  this  respect,  however,  the 
Australian  life-region  still  bears  an  antiquated  and  un- 
developed aspect.  Nowhere  else  in  the  world  do  we  find 
those  very  oldest  types  of  birds  represented  by  the  casso- 
waries, the  emus,  and  the  mooruk  of  New  Britain.  The 
extreme  term  in  this  exceedingly  ancient  >set  of  creatures 
is  given  us  by  the  wingless  bird,  the  apteryx  or  kiwi  of 
New  Zealand,  whose  feathers  nearly  resemble  hair,  and 
whose  grotesque  appearance  makes  it  as  much  a  wonder  in 
its  own  class  as  the  puzzle-monkey  and  the  casuarina  are 
among  forest  trees.      No   feathered  creatures  so  closely 


98  A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT 

upproiicli  tlio  li/ard-liiikHl  binl.s  of  tlio  oolito  or  tlio  tootliod 
birds  of  tlic  crotiu-oous  i)oriod  as  do  tlioso  Australian  and 
Now  Zealand  ennis   and  apteryxos.      Aj^niin,  Avliile  many 
cliaractoristic  Oriontal  familios  aro  quito  a,hsi>iit,  liko  tho 
vultiiros,  woodpockors,  ])lu'asants  and  hiilhtils,  Iho  Austra- 
lian ri'j^ion  has  many  other  fairly  anciiMit  birds,  found  no- 
where olso  on  tho  surface  of  our  modern  pl:nu>t.       Sueh 
aro  tho  so-ealled   brush  turkeys  and  mound  buiidtM's,  tho 
only  feather(>d  things  that  n(>viM"  sit  upon  tlu>ir  own  oiX'A^, 
but  allow  them  to  bo  hatched,  aftiu'  tho  fiishion  of  r(^ptiles. 
by  tho  lieat  of  the  sand  or  of  fermentinti:  vegetaldo  matter. 
Tlie  pipinj];  crows,  tho  houoysuckers,  the   lyre-birds,  and 
tiu)  moro-porks  aro  all  peculiar  to  tho  Australian  rejj^ion. 
So  aro  tho  wonderful  and  aesthetic  bower-birds.     I>rush- 
toujjfucd  lories,  black  cockatoos,  and  L!:ori;;eously  coloured 
pisj;uons,  though  somewhat  loss  anticpie,  pcn-haps,  in  type, 
{jfive  a    spoi'ial   character   to  the  bird-life  of  tho  country. 
And  in  New  (luinea,  an  isolated  bit  of  the  same  old  con- 
tinent, tho  birds  of  paradise,  fomid  nowhoro  else  in  t]u> 
whole  W(n'ld,  si'cm  to  recall  some  fori,'otten  l^jden  of  the 
remote  })ast,  some   golden    ago   of   Saturnian   splendoin*. 
l\)etry  apart,  into  which  I  have  di'op])ed  for  a  nu>nuMit  like 
Mr.  Silas  Wegg,  tho  birds  of  paradise  aro,  in  fact,  gor- 
geously drissed  crows,  specijilly  adapted  to  forest  life  in  a 
rich  fruit-bearing  tropical  country,  where  food  is  abundant 
and  enemies  unknown. 

Last  of  all,  a  certain  small  number  of  modcM'n  nuimmals 
have  passtnl  over  to  Australia  at  various  tim(>s  by  pure 
chance.  Thev  fall  into  two  classes — tho  rats  and  mice,  who 
doubtless  got  transported  across  on  floating  logs  or  balks 
of  timber  ;  and  the  hunum  importations,  including  the  dog, 
who  came,  pc^rhaps  on  their  owners'  cano(>s,  perhaps  on  tho 
wreck  and  di'^bris  of  inundations.  Yet  even  in  these  cases 
again,  Australia  still  maintains  its  proud  pre-eminence  as 


A  FOSSIL  CONTINKNT  99 

tho  most  iuitinu!ii(>(l  niul  unproiifn'ssivo  of  contincnls. 
For  tho  Ausiniliiiii  bhu-k-l'i'llow  must  liiivo  jjfot  tluTc  a  vory 
lonjj;  timo  aufo  iiulct'd  ;  lio  bt'loni^^H  to  an  oxtrcnu'ly  iincicnt 
lnim;ui  ty|H<,  and  strikiii^dy  nu-alls  in  liis  jaws  and  sUull 
tlio  Ni'andiM'tlial  savajjjo  and  otlior  early  prehistoric  races  ; 
whiU)  the  wooUv-headed  Tasmaniiin,  a  memhi'r  of  a  totally 
distinct  lunnun  family,  and  perhaps  tho  very  lowest  sample 
of  Innnanity  that  has  survived  to  modern  times,  nnist  have 
crossed  over  to  Tasmania  t>ven  earlier  still,  his  brethren  on 
tho  mainland  having  no  doubt  bt>en  exterminated  latt>r  on 
when  tho  stone-ai:;o  Australian  black-ftdlows  first  jjfot  cast 
ashore  upon  the  continiMit  inhabited  by  tlu?  yi't  more 
barbaric  and  helpless  nejj:i'ito  race.  As  for  the  dini^o,  or 
Australian  wild  doi,',  only  half  (bnuesticated  by  the  savasj^e 
natives,  he  repr(>sents  a  low  anc(>sira.l  do.u;  type,  half  wolf 
and  half  jackal,  incapable  of  the  hii^her  canine  traits,  and 
with  a  susincious,  ferocious,  <;larin!j;  eyc^  thatbi^travs  at  once 
his  uncivilisable  tiMid(MU'i(>s. 

Omittinfjf  th(>se  latcM' importations,  however — the  modern 
])lants,  birds,  and  human  beinjjfs  it  may  be  fairly  said  that 
Australia  is  still  in  its  secondary  sta,L,'e,  while  tlu^  rest  of 
tho  world  has  i'c>ached  the*  t(>rtiary  and  (juattM'nary  piM'iods. 
ller(>  aj^ain,  howevtn",  a  (Uuluction  nmst  luMuade,  in  ordi-r 
to  attain  the  ncH'essary  accm'acy.  Kven  in  Australia  the 
world  never  stands  still,  'rhouj^'h  the  Australian  animals 
aro  still  at  bottom  tho  Kuroiunin  and  Asiatic  animals  of  tho 
siH'ondary  a^'(\  they  are  those  animals  with  a  ditViM-ence. 
Thoy  liave  underjj^ono  an  evolution  of  tlu>ir  own.  It  has 
not  been  tho  evolution  of  the  great  continents;  but  it  has 
boon  evolution  all  the  same  ;  slowm*,  nun'o  local,  narrower, 
more  restricted,  y(^t  evolution  in  tho  tru(>st  sensi>.  ()n«» 
mij^lit  compare  tho  dilViM'cnce  to  tho  dilVc'rence  between 
tho  civilisation  of  Murope  and  tlu»  civilisation  of  ]\Ie\ico  or 
Poru.     Tho  -Mexicans,  when  Cortez  blotted  out  their  in- 


100  A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT 

digenoiis  culture,  were  still,  to  be  aure,  in  their  stone  age ; 
but  it  was  a  very  dillerent  stone  age  from  that  of  the  cave- 
dwellers  or  mound  builders  in  Britain.  Even  so,  though 
Australia  is  still  zoologically  in  the  secondary  period,  it  is 
a  secondary  period  a  good  deal  altered  and  adapted  in  detail 
to  meet  the  wants  of  special  situations. 

The  oldest  types  of  animals  in  Australia  are  the 
omithorhynchus  and  the  echidna,  the  'beast  with  a  bill,' 
and  the  '  porcupine  ant-eater '  of  popular  natural  history. 
These  curious  creatures,  genuine  living  fossils,  occupy  in 
some  respects  an  intermediate  place  between  the  mammals 
on  the  one  hand  and  the  birds  and  lizards  on  the  other. 
The  echidna  has  no  teeth,  and  a  very  bird-like  skull  and 
body  ;  the  omithorhynchus  has  a  bill  like  a  duck's,  webbed 
feet,  and  a  great  many  quaint  anatomical  peculiarities 
which  closely  ally  it  to  the  birds  and  reptiles.  Both,  in  fact, 
are  early  arrested  stages  in  the  development  of  mammals 
from  the  old  common  vertebrate  ancestor ;  and  they  could 
only  have  struggled  on  to  our  own  day  in  a  continent  free 
from  the  severe  competition  of  the  higher  types  which  have 
since  been  evolved  in  Europe  and  Asia.  Even  in  Australia 
itself  the  omithorhynchus  and  echidna  have  had  to  put  up 
perforce  with  the  lower  places  in  the  hierarchy  of  nature. 
The  first  is  a  burrowing  and  aquatic  creature,  specialised 
in  a  thousand  minute  ways  for  his  amphibious  life  and 
queer  subterranean  habits ;  the  second  is  a  spiny  hedge- 
hog-like nocturnal  prowler,  who  buries  himself  in  the  earth 
during  the  day,  and  lives  by  night  on  insects  which  he 
licks  up  greedily  with  his  long  ribbon-like  tongue.  Apart 
from  the  specialisations  brought  about  by  their  necessary 
adaptation  to  a  particular  niche  in  the  economy  of  life, 
these  two  quaint  and  very  ancient  animals  probably 
preserve  for  us  in  their  general  structure  the  features  of 
an  extremely  early  descendant  of  the  common  ancestor 


A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT  101 

from  whom  mammals,  birds,  and  reptiles  alike  are  originally 
derived. 

The  ordinary  Australian  pouched  mammals  belonj]f  to 
far  less  ancient  types  than  ornithorhynehus  and  echidna, 
but  they  too  are  very  old  in  structure,  though  they  have 
undergone  an  extraordinary  separate  evolution  to  fit  them 
for  the  most  diverse  positions  in  life.  Almost  every  main 
form  of  higher  mammal  (except  the  biggest  ones)  has,  as  it 
"svero,  its  analogue  or  representative  among  the  marsupial 
fauna  of  the  Australasian  region  fitted  to  fill  the  same  niche 
in  nature.  For  instance,  in  the  blue  gum  forests  of  New 
South  Wales  a  small  animal  inhabits  the  trees,  in  form  and 
aspect  exactly  like  a  flying  squirrel.  Nobody  who  was  not 
a  structural  and  anatomical  naturalist  would  ever  for  a 
moment  dream  of  doubting  its  close  affinity  to  the  flying 
squirrels  of  the  American  woodlands.  It  has  just  the 
same  general  outline,  just  the  same  bushy  tail,  just  the 
same  rough  arrangement  of  colours,  and  just  the  same 
expanded  parachute-like  membrane  stretching  between  the 
fore  and  hind  limbs.  Why  should  this  be  so  ?  Clearly 
because  both  animals  have  independently  adapted  them- 
selves to  the  same  mode  of  life  under  the  same  general 
circumstances.  Natural  selection,  acting  upon  unlike  ori- 
ginal types,  but  in  like  conditions,  has  produced  in  the  end 
very  similar  results  in  both  cases.  Still,  when  we  come  to 
examine  the  more  intimate  underlying  structure  of  the  two 
animals,  a  profound  fundamental  difierence  at  once  exhibits 
itself.  The  one  is  distinctly  a  true  squirrel,  a  rodent  of  the 
rodents,  externally  adapted  to  an  arboreal  existence  ;  the 
other  is  equally  a  true  phalanger,  a  marsupial  of  the  mar- 
supials, which  has  independently  undergone  on  his  own 
account  very  much  the  same  adaptation,  for  very  much  the 
same  reasons.  Just  so  a  dolphin  looks  externally  very  like  a 
fish,  in  head  and  tail  and  form  and  movement ;  its  flippers 


102  A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT 

closely  resemble  fins  ;  and  nothing  about  it  seems  to  differ 
very  markedly  from  the  outer  aspect  of  a  shark  or  a  cod- 
fish. But  in  reality  ic  has  no  gills  and  no  swim-bladder ; 
it  lays  no  eggs  ;  it  does  not  own  one  truly  fish-like  organ. 
It  breathes  air,  it  possesses  lungs,  it  has  warm  blood,  it 
suckles  its  young  ;  in  heart  and  brain  and  nerves  and 
organisation  it  is  a  thoroughgoing  mammal,  with  an  ac- 
quired resemblance  to  the  fishy  form,  due  entirely  to  mere 
similarity  in  place  of  residence. 

Running  hastily  through  the  chief  marsupial  develop- 
ments, one  may  say  that  the  wombats  are  pouched  animals 
who  take  the  place  of  rabbits  or  marmots  in  Europe,  and 
resemble  them  both  in  burrowing  habits  and  more  or  less 
in  shape,  which  closely  approaches  the  familiar  and  un- 
graceful guinea-pig  outline.  The  vulpine  phalanger  does 
duty  for  a  fox  ;  the  fat  and  sleepy  little  dormouse  phalanger 
takes  the  place  of  a  European  dormouse.  Both  are  so  ridi- 
culously like  the  analogous  animals  of  the  larger  continents 
that  the  colonists  always  call  them,  in  perfect  good  faith, 
by  the  familiar  names  of  the  old-country  creatures.  The 
koala  poses  as  a  small  bear  ;  the  cuscus  answ^ers  to  the 
racoons  of  America.  The  pouched  badgers  explain  them- 
selves at  once  by  their  very  name,  like  the  Plyants,  the 
Pinchwifes,  the  Brainsicks,  and  the  Carelesses  of  the 
Eestoration  comedy.  The  *  native  rabbit  '  of  Swan  River 
is  a  rabbit-liko  bandicoot  ;  the  pouched  ant-eater  similarly 
takes  the  place  of  the  true  ant-eaters  of  other  continents. 
By  way  of  carnivores,  the  Tasmanian  devil  is  a  fierce  and 
savage  marsupial  analogue  of  the  American  wolverine  ;  a 
smaller  species  of  the  same  type  usurps  the  name  and  place 
of  the  marten  ;  and  the  dog-headed  Thylacinus  is  in  form 
and  figure  precisely  like  a  wolf  or  a  jackal.  The  pouched 
weasels  are  very  weasel-like  ;  the  kangaroo  rats  and  kanga- 
roo mice  run  the  true  rats  and  mice  a  close  race  in  every 


t 

A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT  103 

particular.  And  it  is  worth  notice,  in  this  connection,  that 
the  one  marsupial  family  which  could  compete  with  higher 
American  life,  the  opossums,  are  really,  so  to  speak,  the 
monkey  development  of  the  marsupial  race.  They  have 
opposable  thumbs,  whicli  make  their  feet  almost  into  hands  ; 
tliey  have  prehensile  tails,  by  which  they  hang  from 
branches  in  true  monkey  fashion ;  they  lead  an  arboreax 
omnivorous  existence ;  they  feed  off  fruits,  birds'  eggs, 
insects,  and  roots  ;  and  altogether  they  are  just  active, 
cunnmg,  intelligent,  tree-haunting  marsupial  spider-mon- 
keys, 

Australia  has  also  one  still  more  ancient  denizen  than 
any  of  these,  a  living  fossil  of  the  very  oldest  sort,  a 
creature  of  wholly  immemorial  and  primitive  antiquity. 
The  story  of  its  discovery  teems  with  the  strangest  ro- 
mance of  natural  history.  To  those  who  could  appre- 
ciate the  facts  of  the  case  it  was  just  as  curious  and  just  as 
interesting  as  though  we  were  now  to  discover  somewliere 
in  an  unknown  island  or  an  African  oasis  some  surviving 
mammoth,  some  belated  megatherium,  or  some  gigantic 
and  misshapen  liassic  saurian.  Imagine  the  extinct 
animals  of  the  Crystal  Palace  grounds  suddenly  appearing 
to  our  dazzled  eyes  in  a  tropical  ramble,  and  you  can 
faintly  conceive  the  delight  and  astonishment  of  natural- 
ists at  large  when  the  barramunda  first  '  swam  into  their 
ken'  in  the  rivers  of  Queensland.  To  be  sure,  in  size 
and  shape  this  '  extinct  fish,'  still  living  and  grunting 
quietly  in  our  midst,  is  comparatively  insignificant  beside 
the  '  dragons  of  the  prime  '  immortalised  in  a  famous  stanza 
by  Tennyson  :  but,  to  the  true  enthusiast,  size  is  nothing  ; 
and  the  barramunda  is  just  as  much  a  marvel  and  a  mon- 
ster as  the  Atlantosaurus  himself  would  have  been  if  he 
had  suddenly  walked  upon  the  stage  of  time,  dragging 
fifty  feet  of  lizard-like  tail  in  a  train  behind  him.      And 


104  A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT 

this  is  the  plain  story  of  that  marvellous  discovery  of  a 
'  missing  link '  in  our  own  pedigree. 

In  the  oldest  secondary  rocks  of  Britain  and  elsewhere 
there  occur  in  ahun dance  the  teeth  of  a  genus  of  ganoid 
fishes  known  as  the  Ceratodi.  (I  apologise  for  ganoid, 
though  it  is  not  a  swear-word).  These  teeth  reappear  from 
time  to  time  in  several  subsequent  formations,  but  at  last 
slowly  die  out  altogether ;  and  of  course  all  naturalists 
naturally  concluded  that  the  creature  to  which  they 
belonged  had  died  out  also,  and  was  long  since  numbered 
with  the  dodo  and  the  mastodon.  The  idea  that  a  Cera- 
todus  could  still  be  living,  far  less  that  it  formed  an  impor- 
tant link  in  the  development  of  all  the  higher  animals, 
could  never  for  a  moment  have  occurred  to  anybody.  As 
well  expect  to  find  a  palasolithic  man  quietly  chipping 
flints  on  a  Pacific  atoll,  or  to  discover  the  ancestor  of  all 
horses  on  the  isolated  and  crag-encircled  summit  of  Eorai- 
ma,  as  to  unearth  a  real  hve  Ceratodus  from  a  modern 
estuary.  In  1870,  however,  Mr.  Krefi't  took  away  the 
breath  of  scientific  Europe  by  informing  it  that  he  had 
found  the  extinct  ganoid  swimming  about  as  large  as  life, 
and  six  feet  long,  without  the  faintest  consciousness  of  its 
own  scientific  importance,  in  a  river  in  Queenslaiid  at  the 
present  day.  The  unsophisticated  aborigines  knew  it  as 
barramunda  ;  the  almost  equally  ignorant  white  settlers 
called  it  with  irreverent  and  unfilial  contempt  the  flat-head. 
On  further  examination,  however,  the  despised  barramunda 
proved  to  be  a  connecting  link  of  primary  rank  between  the 
oldest  sur\iving  group  of  fishes  and  the  lowest  air-breathing 
animals  like  the  frogs  and  salamanders.  Though  a  true 
fish,  it  leaves  its  native  streams  at  night,  and  sets  out  on  a 
foraging  expedition  after  vegetable  food  in  the  neighbouring 
woodlands.  There  it  browses  on  myrtle  leaves  and  grasses, 
and  otherwise  behaves  itself  in  a  maimer  wholly  unbe- 


A  FOSSIL  CONTINENT  105 

coming  its  piscine  antecedents  and  aquatic  education.  To 
fit  it  for  this  strange  amphibious  life,  the  barramunda  has 
both  lungs  and  gills  ;  it  can  breathe  either  air  or  water  at 
will,  or,  if  it  chooses,  the  two  together.  Though  covered 
with  scales,  and  most  fish-like  in  outline,  it  presents  points 
of  anatomical  resemblance  both  to  salamanders  and  lizards  ; 
and,  as  a  connecting  bond  between  the  North  American 
mud-fish  on  the  one  hand  and  the  wonderful  lepidosiren 
on  the  other,  it  forms  a  true  member  of  the  long  series 
by  which  the  higher  animals  generally  trace  their  descent 
from  a  remote  race  of  marine  ancestors.  It  is  very 
interesting,  therefore,  to  find  that  this  living  fossil  link 
between  fish  and  reptiles  should  have  survived  only  in 
the  fossil  continent,  Australia.  Everywhere  else  it  has 
long  since  been  beaten  out  of  the  field  by  its  own  more  de- 
veloped amphibian  descendants  ;  in  Australia  alone  it  still 
drags  on  a  lonely  existence  as  the  last  relic  of  an  otherwise 
long-forgotten  and  exinct  family. 


106  A  VERY  OLD  MASTEB 


A    VERY  OLD  MASTER 

The  work  of  art  which  lies  before  me  is  old,  unquestionably 
old ;  a  good  deal  older,  in  fact,  than  Archbishop  Ussher 
(who  invented  all  out  of  his  own  archiepiscopal  head  the 
date  commonly  assigned  for  the  creation  of  the  world) 
would  by  any  means  have  been  ready  to  admit.  It  is  a 
bas-rehef  by  an  old  master,  considerably  more  antique  in 
origin  than  the  most  archaic  gem  or  intaglio  in  the  Museo 
Borbonico  at  Naples,  the  mildly  decorous  Louvre  in  Paris, 
or  the  eminently  respectable  British  Museum,  which  is  the 
glory  of  our  own  smoky  London  in  the  spectacled  eyes  of 
German  professors,  all  put  together.  When  Assyrian 
sculptors  carved  in  fresh  white  alabaster  the  flowing  curls 
of  Sennacherib's  hair,  just  like  a  modern  coachman's  wig, 
this  work  of  primeval  art  was  already  hoary  with  the  rime 
of  ages.  When  Memphian  artists  were  busy  in  the  morning 
twilight  of  time  with  the  towering  coiffure  of  Ramses  or 
Sesostris,  this  far  more  ancient  relic  of  plastic  handicraft 
was  lying,  already  fossil  and  forgotten,  beneath  the  con- 
creted floor  of  a  cave  in  the  Dordogne.  If  we  were  to 
divide  the  period  for  which  we  possess  authentic  records  of 
man's  abode  upon  this  oblate  spheroid  into  ten  epochs — ■ 
an  epoch  being  a  good  high-sounding  word  which  doesn't 
commit  one  to  any  definite  chronology  in  particular — then 
it  is  probable  that  all  known  art,  from  the  Egyptian 
onward,  would  fall  into  the  tenth  of  the  epochs  thus 


A  VEIIY  OLD  MASTER  107 

loosely  demarcated,  while  my  old  French  bas-relief  would 

fiill  into  the  first.     To  put  the   date  quite  succinctly,  I 

should  say  it  was  most  likely  about  244,000  years  before 

the  creation  of  Adam  according  to  Ussher. 

The  work  of  the  old  master  is  lightly  incised  on  reindeer 

horn,  and  represents  two  horses,  of  a  very  early  and  heavy 

type,  following  one  another,  with  heads  stretched  forward, 

as  if  sniffing  the  air  suspiciously  in  search  of  enemies. 

The  horses  would  certainly  excite  unfavourable  comment 

at  Newmarket.     Their   *  points '    are   undoubtedly  coarse 

and   clumsy :    their    heads    are   big,    thick,   stupid,   and 

ungainly  ;    their   manes  are  bushy  and  ill-defined ;   their 

legs  are  distinctly  feeble  and  spindle-shaped  ;    their  tails 

more  closely  resemble  the  tail  of  the  domestic  pig  than 

that  of  the  noble  animal  beloved  with  a  love  passing  the 

love  of  women  by  the  English  aristocracy.     Nevertheless 

there  is  little  (if  any)  reason  to  doubt  that  my  very  old 

master  did,  on  the  whole,  accurately  represent  the  ancestral 

steed  of  his  own  exceedingly  remote  period.     There  were 

once    horses   even   as  is   the  horse   of    the    pre-historic 

Dordonian  artist.     Such  clumsy,  big-headed  brutes,  dun 

in  hue  and  striped  down  the  back  like  modern  donkeys, 

did  actually  once  roam  over  the  low  plains  where  Paris 

now  stands,  and  browse  off  lush  grass  a-nd  tall  water-plants 

around  the  quays  of  Bordeaux  and  Lyons.     Not  only  do 

the  bones  of  the  contemporary  horses,  dug  up  in  caves, 

prove    this,    but    quite    recently    the    Russian    traveller 

Prjevalsky  (whose  name  is  so  much  easier  to  spell  than  to 

pronounce)  has  discovered  a  similar  living  horse,  which 

drags  on  an  obscure   existence   somewhere  in   the  high 

table-lands  of  Central  Asia.     Prjevalsky's  horse  (you  see, 

as  I  have  only  to  write  the  word,  without  uttering  it,  I 

don't  mind   how  often  or  how  intrepidly  I  use  it)  is  so 

singularly  like  the  clumsy  brutes  that  sat,  or  rather  stood, 
8 


108  A  VERY  OLD  MASTER 

for  their  portraits  to  my  old  master  that  we  can't  do  bettor 
than  begin  by  describing  him  in  projma  persona. 

The  horse  family  of  the  present  day  is  divided,  like 
most  other  families,  into  two  factions,  which  may  bo 
described  for  variety's  sake  as  those  of  the  true  horses  and 
the  donkeys,  these  latter  including  also  the  zebras,  quaggas, 
and  various  other  unfamiliar  creatures  whose  names,  in 
very  choice  Latin,  are  only  knoAvn  to  the  more  diligent 
Visitors  at  the  Sunday  Zoo.  Now  everybody  must  have 
noticed  that  the  chief  broad  distinction  between  these  two 
great  groups  consists  in  the  feathering  of  the  tail.  Tho 
domestic  donkey,  with  his  near  congeners,  the  zebra  and 
CO.,  have  smooth  short-haired  tails,  ending  in  a  single 
bunch  or  fly-whisk  of  long  hairs  collected  together  in  a 
tufted  bundle  at  the  extreme  tip.  The  horse,  on  the  other 
hand,  besides  having  horny  patches  or  callosities  on  both 
fore  and  hind  legs,  while  the  donkeys  have  them  on  the 
fore  legs  only,  has  a  hairy  tail,  in  which  the  long  hairs  are 
almost  equally  distributed  from  top  to  bottom,  thus  giving 
it  its  peculiarly  bushy  and  brushy  appearance.  ]5ut 
Prjevalsky's  horse,  as  one  would  naturally  expect  from  an 
early  intermediate  form,  stands  halfway  in  this  respect 
between  the  two  groups,  and  acts  the  thankless  part  of  a 
family  mediator ;  for  it  has  most  of  its  long  tail-hairs 
collected  in  a  final  flourish,  like  the  donkey,  but  several  of 
them  spring  from  the  middle  distance,  as  in  the  genuine 
Arab,  though  never  from  the  very  top,  thus  showing  an 
approach  to  the  true  horsey  habit  without  actually  attaining 
that  final  pinnacle  of  equine  glory.  So  far  as  one  can 
make  out  from  the  somewhat  rude  handicraft  of  my  pre- 
historic Phidias  the  horse  of  the  quaternary  epoch  had 
much  the  same  caudal  peculiarity  ;  his  tail  was  bushy,  but 
only  in  the  lower  half.  He  was  still  in  the  intermediate 
Btage  between  horse  and  donkey,  a  natural  mule  still 


A  VERY  OLD  MASTER  109 

strugglinjj  up  aspiringly  toward  perfect  horsohood.  In  all 
other  matters  the  two  creatures — the  cave  man's  horse 
and  Prjevalsky's — closely  agree.  Both  display  large  heads, 
thick  necks,  coarse  manes,  and  a  general  disregard  of 
'  points  '  which  would  strike  disgust  and  dismay  into  the 
stout  hreasts  of  ^lessrs.  Tattersall.  In  fact  over  a  T.Y.C. 
it  may  be  confidently  asserted,  in  the  pure  Saxon  of  the 
sporting  papers,  that  Prjevalsky's  and  the  cave  man's  lot 
wouldn't  be  in  it.  Nevertheless  a  candid  critic  would  be 
forced  to  admit  that,  in  spite  of  clumsiness,  they  both 
mean  staying. 

So  much  for  the  two  sitters  ;  now  let  us  turn  to  the 
artist  who  sketched  them.  Who  was  he,  and  when  did  he 
live  ?  Well,  his  name,  like  that  of  many  other  old  masters, 
is  quite  unknown  to  us ;  but  what  does  that  matter  so 
long  as  his  work  itself  lives  and  survives  ?  Like  the 
Comtists  he  has  managed  to  obtain  objective  immortality. 
The  work,  after  all,  is  for  the  most  part  all  we  ever  have 
to  go  upon.  *  I  have  my  own  theory  about  the  authorship 
of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,'  said  Lewis  Carroll  (of  '  Alice  in 
Wonderland  ')  once  in  Christ  Church  common  room  :  '  it 
is  that  they  weren't  really  written  by  Homer,  but  by 
another  person  of  the  same  name.'  There  you  have  the 
Iliac"  in  a  nutshell  as  regards  the  anther*^' -^.ity  of  great 
works.  All  we  know  about  the  supposed  Homer  (if 
anything)  is  that  he  was  the  reputed  author  of  the  two 
unapproachable  Greek  epics ;  and  all  we  know  directly 
about  my  old  master,  viewed  personally,  is  that  he  once 
carved  with  a  rude  flint  flake  on  a  fragment  of  reindeer 
horn  these  two  clumsy  prehistoric  horses.  Yet  by  putting 
tw^o  and  two  together  we  can  make,  not  four,  as  might  be 
naturally  expected,  but  a  fairly  connected  history  of  the 
old  master  himself  and  what  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  would 
no  doubt  playfully  term  '.his  environment.' 


110  A  VERY  OLD   MASTER 

The  work  of  art  was  dug  up  from  under  tlio  firm  con- 
creted floor  of  a  ciivo  in  tho  Dordogno.  That  cave  was 
once  nliabitcd  by  the  nameless  artist  himself,  his  wife, 
and  family.  It  had  been  previously  tenantful  by  various 
other  early  families,  as  well  as  by  bears,  who  seem  to  have 
lived  there  in  tho  intervals  between  the  dill'erent  human 
occupiers.  Probably  the  bears  ejected  the  men,  and  the 
men  in  turn  ejected  the  boars,  by  the  summary  process  of 
eating  one  another  up.  In  any  case  the  freehold  of  the 
cave  was  at  last  settled  upon  our  early  French  artist.  But 
the  date  of  his  occupancy  is  by  no  means  recent ;  for  since 
he  lived  there  the  long  cold  spell  known  as  the  Great  Ice 
Age,  or  Glacial  Epoch,  has  swept  over  the  whole  of 
Northern  Europe,  and  swept  before  it  the  shivering 
descendants  of  my  poor  prehistoric  old  master.  Now, 
how  long  ago  was  the  Great  Ice  Age  ?  As  a  rule,  if  you 
ask  a  geologist  for  a  definite  date,  you  will  find  him  very 
chary  of  giving  you  a  distinct  answer.  lie  knows  that 
the  chalk  is  older  than  the  London  clay,  and  the  oolite 
than  the  chalk,  and  the  red  marl  than  the  oolite ;  and  he 
knows  also  that  each  of  them  took  a  very  long  time  indeed 
to  lay  down,  but  exactly  how  long  he  has  no  notion.  If 
you  say  to  him,  *  Is  it  a  million  years  since  the  chalk  was 
deposited '? '  he  will  answer,  like  the  old  lady  of  Prague, 
whose  ideas  were  excessively  vague,  '  Perhaps.'  If  you 
suggest  five  millions,  he  will  answer  oracularly  once  more, 
'  Perhaps ' ;  and  if  you  go  on  to  twenty  millions,  '  Perhaps,' 
with  a  broad  smile,  is  still  the  only  confession  of  faith  that 
torture  will  wring  out  of  him.  But  in  the  matter  of  tho 
Glacial  Epoch,  a  comparatively  late  and  almost  historical 
event,  geologists  have  broken  through  their  usual  reserve 
on  this  chronological  question  and  condescended  to  give 
us  a  numerical  determination.  And  here  is  how  Dr.  Croll 
gets  at  it. 


A  VERY  OLD  MASTER  HI 

Evfiry  now  and  a^ifain,  poolo^Mcal  evidence  poeato  show 
us,  a  lontj  cold  spell  occurs  in  the  northern  or  southern 
heiiiinphore.  Durinj:^  these  long  cold  spells  tlie  ice  cap  at 
the  poles  increases  largely,  till  it  spreads  over  a  great  part 
of  what  are  now  the  temperate  regions  of  the  glohe,  and 
makes  ice  a  mere  drug  in  the  market  as  far  south  as  Covent 
Garden  or  tho  Halles  a  "^aris.  During  the  greatest 
extension  of  this  ice  sheet  ii  ,ne  last  glacial  epoch,  in  fact, 
all  England  except  a  small  south-western  corner  (about 
Torquay  and  Bournemouth)  was  completely  covered  by 
one  enormous  mass  of  glaciers,  as  is  still  the  case  with 
almost  the  whole  of  Greenland.  The  ice  sheet,  grinding 
slowly  over  the  hills  and  rocks,  smoothed  and  polished  and 
striated  their  surfaces  in  many  places  till  they  resembled 
the  roclies  moiiionnics  similarly  ground  down  in  our  own 
day  by  the  moving  ice  rivers  of  Chamouni  and  Grindelwald. 
Now,  since  these  great  glaciations  have  occurred  at  various 
intervals  in  the  world's  past  history,  they  must  depend 
upon  some  frequently  recurring  cause.  Such  a  cause, 
therefore.  Dr.  Croll  began  ingeniously  to  hunt  about  for. 

He  found  it  at  last  in  the  eccentricity  of  the  earth's 
orbit.  This  world  of  ours,  though  usually  steady  enough 
in  its  movements,  is  at  times  decidedly  eccontnc.  Not 
that  I  mean  to  impute  to  our  old  and  exceedinf.ly  respect- 
able planet  any  occasional  aberrations  of  intelloct,  or  still 
less  of  morals  (such  as  might  be  expected  from  Mars  and 
Venus) ;  the  word  is  here  to  be  accepted  strictly  in  itd 
scientific  or  Pickwickian  sense  as  implying  merely  an 
irregularity  of  movement,  a  slight  wobbling  out  of  the 
established  path,  a  deviation  from  exact  circularity. 
Owing  to  a  combination  of  astronomical  revolutions,  the 
precession  of  the  equinoxes  and  the  motion  of  the  aphelion 
(I  am  not  going  to  explain  them  here  ;  I  he  names  alone 
will  be  quite  sufficient  for  most  people  ;  they  will  take  the 


112  A  VERY  OLD  MASTER 

rest  on  trust) — owinpf  to  tlio  combination  of  those  pro- 
foundly intiTcstinij;  causes,  I  say,  there  occur  certain 
pcriotls  in  the  world's  life  when  for  a  very  long  time  to- 
gether (10,500  years,  to  bo  quite  precise)  the  northern 
hemisphcro  is  warmer  than  the  southern,  or  vice  versa. 
Now,  Dr.  Croll  has  calculated  tluit  about  '250,000  years  ago 
this  eccentricity  of  the  earth's  orbit  was  at  its  highest,  so 
that  a  cycle  of  recurring  cold  and  warm  epochs  in  either 
hemisphere  alternately  then  set  in;  and  such  cold  spells  it 
was  that  produced  the  Great  Ice  Age  in  Northern  Kuropo. 
They  went  on  till  about  80,000  years  ago,  when  they 
stopped  short  for  the  present,  leaving  the  climate  of 
Britain  and  the  neighbouring  continent  with  its  existing 
inconvenient  Laodicean  temperature.  And,  as  there  are 
good  reasons  for  believing  that  my  old  master  and  his 
contemporaries  lived  just  before  the  greatest  cold  of  the 
Glacial  Epoch,  and  that  his  immediate  descendants,  with 
the  animals  on  which  they  feasted,  were  driven  out  of 
Europe,  or  out  of  existence,  by  the  slow  approach  of  the 
enormous  ice  sheet,  we  may,  I  think,  fairly  conclude  that 
his  date  was  somewhere  about  n.c.  218,000.  In  any  case 
we  must  at  least  admit,  with  Mr.  Andrew  Lang,  the 
laureate  of  the  twenty-five  thousandth  century,  that 

Ho  livotl  in  the  long  long  agocs  ; 
'Twiis  the  manner  of  primitive  man. 

The  old  master,  thc>n,  carved  his  bas-relief  in  pre- 
Glacial  Europe,  just  at  the  moment  before  the  temporary 
extinction  of  his  race  in  France  by  the  coming  on  of  the 
Great  Ice  Age.  Wo  can  infer  this  fact  from  the  character 
of  the  fauna  by  which  he  was  surromided,  a  fauna  in 
which  species  of  cold  and  warm  climates  are  at  times 
quite  capriciously  intermingled.  We  get  the  reindeer  and 
the  mammoth  side  by  side  with  the  hippopotamus  and  the 


A  VKRY  OLD   MASTER  113 

hyona ,  -wo  find  tho  chilly  cnvo  bear  and  tlio  Norway 
lemniinfi;,  the  musk  slioop  and  tho  Arctic  fox  in  tho  same 
doposits  with  tho  lion  and  tho  lynx,  tho  leopard  and  tho 
rhinocoroa.  The  fact  ia,  as  JMr.  Alfred  IIushoI  Wallace 
has  pointed  out,  wo  livo  to-day  in  a  zooloufically  im- 
poverished world,  from  which  all  tho  larjj^est,  iiorcest,  and 
most  remarkable  animals  have  lately  been  wcmhUhI  out. 
And  it  was  in  all  ])rohal)ility  tho  cominj]^  on  of  tho  Ico  A.u;o 
that  did  tho  weeding.  Our  Zoo  can  boast  no  manmiotl} 
and  no  mastodon.  Tho  sabre-toothed  lion  has  gone  tho 
way  of  all  flesh  ;  tho  deinotherium  and  the  colossal  rumi- 
nants of  the  riioceno  A{^e  no  longer  browse  beside  the  banks 
of  Seine.  Ihit  our  old  master  saw  the  last  of  some  at  least 
among  those  gigantic  quadrupeds  ;  it  was  his  hand  or  that 
of  one  among  his  fellows  that  scratched  tho  famous 
mannnoth  etching  on  tho  ivory  of  La  IMadelaino  and 
carved  the  ligure  of  the  extinc^t  cave  bear  on  the  reindeer- 
horn  ornaments  of  Laugerie  l^asse.  Probably,  therefore, 
he  lived  in  the  ))eriod  innnediately  preceding  tho  (Ireat  Ice 
Age,  or  else  perha})s  in  one  of  tho  warm  interglacial  sjjoUs 
with  which  tho  long  secular  winter  of  tho  northern 
hemisphere  was  then  from  time  to  time  agreeably  diversi- 
fied. 

And  what  did  the  old  master  himself  look  like  ?  Well, 
painters  have  always  been  fond  of  reproducing  their  own 
hneaments.  Have  we  not  tho  familiar  young  Ilaflael, 
painted  by  himself,  and  the  Rembrandt,  and  tho  Titian, 
and  the  llubens,  and  a  hundred  other  self-drawn  portraits, 
all  flattering  and  all  famous?  l'A"en  so  priniitive  man 
has  drawn  himself  many  times  over,  iu)t  indeed  on  tiiis 
particular  piece  of  reindeer  horn,  but  on  several  other 
media  to  be  seen  elsewhere,  in  tho  original  or  in  good 
copies.  One  of  the  best  portraits  is  that  discovered  in  the 
old  cave  at  Laugerie  Basse  by  M.  Elie  Massenat,  where  u 


114  A  VERY  OLD  MASTER 

very  early  pre- Glacial  man  is  represented  in  the  act  of 
hunting  an  aurochs,  at  which  he  is  casting  a  flint-tipped 
javelin.  In  this,  as  in  all  other  pictures  of  the  same  epoch, 
I  regret  to  say  that  the  ancient  hunter  is  represented  in 
the  costume  of  Adam  before  the  fail.  Our  old  master's 
studies,  in  fact,  are  all  in  the  nude.  Primitive  man  was 
evidently  unacquainted  as  yet  with  the  use  of  clothing, 
though  primitive  woman,  while  still  unclad,  had  already 
learnt  how  to  heighten  her  natural  charms  by  the  simple 
addition  of  a  necklacg  and  bracelets.  Indeed,  though 
dresses  were  still  wholly  unlcnown,  rouge  was  even  then 
extremely  fashionable  among  French  ladies,  and  lumps  of 
the  ruddle  with  which  primitive  woman  made  herself 
beautiful  for  ever  are  now  to  be  discovered  in  the  corner  of 
the  cave  where  she  had  her  little  prehistoric  boudoir.  To 
return  to  our  hunter,  however,  who  for  aught  we  know  to 
the  contrary  may  be  our  old  master  himself  in  person,  he 
is  a  rather  crouching  and  semi-erect  savage,  with  an  arched 
back,  recalling  somewhat  that  of  the  gorilla,  a  round  head, 
long  neck,  pointed  beard,  and  weak,  shambling,  ill-de- 
veloped legs.  I  fear  we  must  admit  that  pre-Glacial  man 
cut,  on  the  whole,  a  very  sorry  and  awlavard  figure. 

Was  he  black  ?  That  we  don't  certainly  know,  but  all 
analogy  would  lead  one  to  answer  positively.  Yes.  White 
men  seem,  on  the  whole,  to  be  a  very  recent  and  novel 
improvement  on  the  original  evolutionary  pattern.  At  any 
rate  he  was  distinctly  hairy,  like  the  Ainos,  or  aborigines 
of  Japan,  in  our  own  day,  of  whom  ^liss  Isabella  Bird  has 
drawn  so  startling  and  sensational  a  picture.  Several  of 
the  pre-Glacial  sketches  show  us  lank  and  gawky  savages 
with  the  body  covered  with  long  scratches,  answering  ex- 
actly to  the  scratches  which  represent  the  hanging  hair  of 
the  mammoth,  and  suggesting  that  man  then  still  retained 
his  old  original  hairy  covering.     The  few  skulls  and  other 


A  VERY  OLD  MASTER  115 

fragments  of  skeletons  now  preserved  to  us  also  indicate 
that  our  old  master  and  his  contemporaries  much  resembled 
in  shape  and  build  the  Australian  black  fellows,  though 
their  foreheads  were  lower  and  more  receding,  while  their 
front  teeth  still  projected  in  huge  fangs,  faintly  recalling 
the  immense  canines  of  the  male  gorilla.  Quite  apart 
from  any  theoretical  considerations  as  to  our  probable 
descent  (or  ascent)  from  Mr.  Darwin's  hypothetical  '  hairy 
arboreal  quadrumanous  ancestor,'  whose  existence  may  or 
may  not  be  really  true,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
actual  historical  remains  set  before  us  pre-Glacial  man  as 
evidently  approaching  in  several  important  respects  the 
higher  monkeys. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  too  that  while  the  Men  of  the 
Time  still  retained  (to  be  frankly  evolutionary)  many 
traces  of  the  old  monkey-like  progenitor,  the  horses  which 
our  old  master  has  so  cleverly  delineated  for  us  on  his 
scrap  of  horn  similarly  retained  many  traces  of  the  earlier 
united  horse-and-donkey  ancestor.  Professor  Huxley  has 
admirably  reconstructed  for  us  the  pedigree  of  the  horse, 
beginning  with  a  little  creature  from  the  Eocene  beds  of 
New  Mexico,  with  five  toes  to  each  hind  foot,  and  ending 
with  the  modern  horse,  whose  hoof  is  now  practically  re- 
duced to  a  single  and  solid-nailed  toe.  Intermediate  stages 
show  us  an  Upper  Eocene  animal  as  big  as  a  fox,  with  four 
toes  on  his  front  feet  and  three  behind ;  a  Miocene  kind  as 
big  as  a  sheep,  with  only  three  toes  on  the  front  foot,  the 
two  outer  of  which  are  smaller  than  the  big  middle  one ; 
and  finally  a  Pliocene  form,  as  big  as  a  donkey,  with  one 
stout  middle  toe,  the  real  hoof,  flanked  by  two  smaller 
ones,  too  short  by  far  to  reach  the  ground.  In  our  own 
horse  these  lateral  toes  have  become  reduced  to  what  are 
known  by  veterinaries  as  splint  bones,  combined  with  the 
canon  in  a  single  solidly  morticed  piece.     But  in  the  pre- 


116  A  VERY  OLD  MASTER 

Glacial  horses  the  splint  bones  still  generally  remained 
quite  distinct,  thus  pointing  back  to  the  still  earlier  period 
when  they  existed  as  two  separate  and  independent  side 
toes  in  the  ancestral  quadruped.  In  a  few  cave  specimens, 
however,  the  splints  are  found  united  with  the  canons  in  a 
single  piece,  while  conversely  horses  are  sometimes,  though 
very  rarely,  born  at  the  present  day  with  three-toed  feet, 
exactly  resembling  those  of  their  half-forgotten  ancestor, 
the  Pliocene  hipparion. 

The  reason  why  we  know  so  much  about  the  horses  of 
the  cave  period  is,  I  am  bound  to  admit,  simply  and  solely 
because  the  man  of  the  period  ate  them.  Hippophagy  has 
always  been  popular  in  France  ;  it  was  practised  by  pre- 
Glacial  man  in  the  caves  of  Perigord,  and  revived  with 
immense  enthusiasm  by  the  gourmets  of  the  Boulevards 
after  the  siege  of  Paris  and  the  hunger  of  the  Commune. 
The  cave  men  hunted  and  killed  the  wild  horse  of  their 
own  times,  and  one  of  the  best  of  their  remaining  works  of 
art  represents  a  naked  hunter  attacking  two  horses,  while 
a  huge  snake  winds  itself  unperceived  behind  close  to  his 
heel.  In  this  rough  prehistoric  sketch  one  seems  to  catch 
some  faint  antique  foresliadowing  of  the  rude  humour  of 
the  *  Petit  Journal  pour  Eire.'  Some  archaeologists  even 
believe  that  the  horse  was  domesticated  by  the  cave  men 
as  a  source  of  food,  and  argue  that  the  familiarity  with  its 
form  shown  in  the  drawings  could  only  have  been  acquired 
by  people  who  knew  the  animal  in  its  domesticated  state ; 
they  declare  that  the  cave  man  was  obviously  horsey.  But 
all  the  indications  seem  to  me  to  show  that  tame  animals 
were  quite  unknown  in  the  age  of  the  cave  men.  The 
mammoth  certainly  was  never  domesticated ;  yet  there  is 
a  famous  sketch  of  the  huge  beast  upon  a  piece  of  his  own 
ivory,  discovered  in  the  cave  of  La  Madelaine  by  Messrs. 
Lartet  and  Christy,  and  engraved  a  hundred  times  in  works 


A  VERY  OLD  MASTER  117 

on  archaeology,  which  forms  oneof  idie  finest  existing  rehcg 
of  pre-Glacial  art.  In  anotlier  sketch,  less  well  known,  but 
not  unworthy  of  admiration,  the  early  artist  has  given  us 
with  a  few  rapid  but  admirable  strokes  his  own  remini- 
scence of  the  effect  produced  upon  him  by  the  sudden  on- 
slaught of  the  hairy  brute,  tusks  erect  and  mouth  wide 
open,  a  perfect  glimpse  of  elephantii  e  fury.  It  forms  a 
capital  example  of  early  impressionism,  respectfully  recom- 
mended to  the  favourable  attention  of  Mr.  J.  M.  Whistler. 
The  reindeer,  however,  formed  the  favourite  food  and 
favourite  model  of  the  pre-Glacial  artists.  Perhaps  it  was 
a  better  sitter  than  the  mammoth  ;  certainly  it  is  much 
more  frequently  represented  on  these  early  prehistoric  bas- 
reliefs.  The  high-water  mark  of  palaeolithic  art  is  un- 
doubtedly to  be  found  in  the  reindeer  of  the  cave  of  Tliayn- 
gen,  in  Switzerland,  a  capital  and  spirited  representation 
of  a  buck  grazing,  in  which  the  perspective  of  the  two 
horns  is  better  managed  than  a  Chinese  artist  would 
manage  it  at  the  present  day.  Another  drawing  of  two 
reindeer  fighting,  scratched  on  a  fragment  of  schistose  rock 
and  unearthed  in  one  of  the  caves  of  Perigord,  though  far 
inferior  to  the  Swiss  specimen  in  spirit  and  execution,  is 
yet  not  without  real  merit.  The  perspective,  however, 
displays  one  marked  infantile  trait,  for  the  head  and  legs 
of  one  deer  are  seen  distinctly  through  the  body  of  another. 
Cave  bears,  fish,  musk  sheep,  foxes,  and  many  other 
extinct  or  existing  animals  are  also  found  among  the 
archaic  sculptures.  Probably  all  these  creatures  were  used 
as  food ;  and  it  is  even  doubtful  whether  the  artistic 
troglodytes  were  not  also  confirmed  cannibals.  To  quote 
Mr.  Andrew  Lang  once  more  on  primitive  man,  '  he  lived 
in  a  cave  by  the  seas ;  he  lived  upon  oysters  and  foes.* 
The  oysters  are  quite  undoubted,  and  the  foes  may  be  in- 
ferred with  considerable  certainty. 


118  A  VERY  OLD  MASTER 

I  have  spoken  of  our  old  master  more  than  once  under 
this  rather  question-begging  style  and  title  of  primitive 
man.  In  reality,  however,  the  very  facts  which  I  have  here 
been  detailing  serve  themselves  to  show  how  extremely  far 
our  hero  was  from  being  truly  primitive.  You  can't  speak 
of  a  distinguished  artist,  who  draws  the  portraits  of  extinct 
animals  with  grace  and  accuracy,  as  in  any  proper  sense 
primordial.  Grant  that  our  good  troglodytes  were  indeed 
light-hearted  cannibals  ;  nevertheless  they  could  design  far 
better  than  the  modern  Esquimaux  or  Polynesians,  and 
carve  far  better  than  the  civilised  being  who  is  now  calmly 
discoursing  about  their  personal  peculiarities  in  his  own 
study.  Between  the  cave  men  of  the  pre-Glacial  age  and 
the  hypothetical  hairy  quadrumanous  ancestor  aforesaid 
there  must  have  intervened  innumerable  generations  of 
gradually  improving  intermediate  forms.  The  old  master, 
when  he  first  makes  his  bow  to  us,  naked  and  not  ashamed, 
in  his  Swiss  or  French  grotto,  flint  scalpel  in  hand  and 
necklet  of  bear's  teeth  dropping  loosely  on  his  hairy  bosom, 
is  nevertheless  in  all  essentials  a  completely  evolved  human 
being,  with  a  whole  past  of  slowly  acquired  culture  lying 
dimly  and  mysteriously  behind  him.  Already  he  had  in- 
vented the  bow  with  its  flint-tipped  arrow,  the  neatly 
chipped  javelin-head,  the  bone  harpoon,  the  barbed  fish- 
hook, the  axe,  the  lance,  the  dagger,  and  the  needle. 
Already  he  had  learnt  how  to  decorate  his  implements  with 
artistic  skill,  and  to  carve  the  handles  of  his  knives  with 
the  figures  of  animals.  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  even 
knew  how  to  brew  and  to  distil ;  and  he  was  probably 
acquainted  with  the  noble  art  of  cookery  as  applied  to  the 
persons  of  his  human  fellow  creatures.  Such  a  personage 
cannot  reasonably  be  called  primitive  ;  cannibalism,  as 
somebody  has  rightly  remarked,  is  the  first  step  on  the 
road  to  civilisation. 


A  VERY  OLD  MASTER  119 

No,  if  we  want  to  get  at  genuine,  unadulterated  primi- 
tive man  we  must  go  much  further  back  in  time  than  the 
mere  trifle  of  250,000  years  with  which  Dr.  CroU  and  the 
cosmic  astronomers  so  generously  provide  us  for  pre-Glacial 
humanity.  We  must  turn  away  to  the  immeasurably 
earlier  fire-split  flints  which  the  Abbe  Bourgeois — un- 
daunted mortal ! — ventured  to  discover  among  the  Miocene 
strata  of  the  calcairc  de  Beaiice.  Those  Hints,  if  of  human 
origin  at  all,  were  fashioned  by  some  naked  and  still  more 
hairy  creature  who  might  fairly  claim  to  be  considered  as 
genuinely  primitive,  ^o  rude  are  they  that,  though  evi- 
dently artificial,  one  distinguished  archa}ologist  will  not 
admit  they  can  be  in  any  way  human  ;  he  will  have  it  that 
they  were  really  the  handiwork  of  the  great  European 
anthropoid  ape  of  that  early  period.  This,  however,  is 
nothing  more  than  very  delicate  hair-splitting;  for  what  does 
it  matter  whether  you  call  the  animal  that  fashioned  these 
exceedingly  rough  and  fire-marked  implements  a  man-like 
ape  or  an  ape-like  human  being  ?  The  fact  remains  quite 
unaltered,  whichever  name  you  choose  to  give  to  it.  When 
you  have  got  to  a  monkey  who  can  light  a  tire  and  proceed 
to  manufacture  himself  a  convenient  implement,  you  may 
be  sure  that  man,  noble  man,  with  all  his  glorious  and 
admirable  faculties — cannibal  or  otherwise — is  lurking 
somewhere  very  close  just  round  the  corner.  The  more  we 
examine  the  work  of  our  old  master,  in  fact,  the  more  does 
the  conviction  force  itself  upon  us  that  he  was  very  far 
indeed  from  being  primitive — that  we  must  push  back  the 
early  history  of  our  race  not  for  250,000  winters  alone,  but 
perhaps  for  two  or  three  million  years  into  the  dim  past  of 
Tertiary  ages. 

But  if  pre-Glacial  man  is  thus  separated  from  the 
origin  of  the  race  by  a  very  long  interval  indeed,  it  is  none 
the  less  true  that  he  is  separated  from  our  own  time  by 


120  A  VERY  OLD  MASTER 

the  intervention  of  a  vast  blank  space,  the  space  occupied 
by  the  coming  on  and  passing  away  of  the  Glacial  Epoch. 
A  great  gap  cuts  him  off  from  what  we  may  consider  as  the 
relatively  modern  age  of  the  mound-buildors,  whose  grassy 
barrows  still  cap  the  summits  of  our  southern  chalk  downs. 
When  the  great  ice  sheet  drove  away  palfeolithic  man — the 
man  of  the  caves  and  the  unwrouglit  flint  axes — from 
Northern  Europe,  he  was  still  nothing  more  than  a  naked 
savage  in  the  hunting  stage,  divinely  gifted  for  art,  indeed, 
but  armed  only  with  roughly  chipped  stone  implements, 
and  wholly  ignorant  of  taming  animals  or  of  the  very 
rudiments  of  agriculture.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  use  of 
metals — aiiruin  irrcpertum  cpernere  fortior — and  he  had 
not  even  learnt  how  to  grind  and  polish  his  rude  stone 
tomahawks  to  a  finished  edge.  He  couldn't  make  himself 
a  bowl  of  sun-baked  pottery,  and,  if  he  had  discovered  the 
almost  universal  art  of  manufacturing  an  intoxicating  liquor 
from  grain  or  berries  (for,  as  Byron,  with  too  great  anthropo- 
logical truth,  justly  remarks,  *  man,  being  reasonable,  must 
get  drunk '),  he  at  least  drank  his  aboriginal  beer  or  toddy 
from  the  capacious  horn  of  a  slaughtered  aurochs.  That 
was  the  kind  of  human  being  who  alone  inhabited  France 
and  England  during  the  later  pre-Glacial  period. 

A  hundred  and  seventy  thousand  years  elapse  (as  the 
play-bills  put  it),  and  then  the  curtain  rises  afresh  upon 
neolithic  Europe.  Man  meanwhile,  loitering  somewhere 
behind  the  scenes  in  Asia  or  Africa  (as  yet  imperfectly  ex- 
plored from  this  point  of  view),  had  acquired  the  important 
arts  of  sharpening  his  tomahawks  and  producing  hand- 
made pottery  for  his  kitchen  utensils.  When  the  great  ice 
sheet  cleared  away  he  followed  the  returning  summer  into 
Northern  Europe,  another  man,  physically,  intellectually, 
and  morally,  with  all  the  slow  accumulations  of  nearly  two 
thousand  centuries  (how  easily  one  writes  the  words !  how 


A  VERY  OLD  MASTER  121 

hard  to  realise  them  !)  upon  his  matiirer  shoulders.  Then 
comes  the  age  of  what  older  antiquaries  used  to  regard 
as  primitive  antiquity — the  age  of  the  English  barrows,  of 
the  Danish  kitchen  middens,  of  the  Swiss  lake  dwellings. 
The  men  who  lived  in  it  iiad  domesticatod  the  dog,  the  cow, 
the  sheep,  the  goat,  and  tlio  invaluable  pig  ;  they  had  begun 
to  sow  small  ancestral  wheat  and  undeveloped  barley  ; 
they  had  learnt  to  weave  flax  and  wear  decent  clothing  : 
in  a  word,  they  had  passed  from  the  savage  hunting  condi- 
tion to  the  stage  of  barbaric  herdsmen  and  agriculturists. 
That  is  a  comparatively  modern  period,  and  yet  I  suppose 
we  must  conclude  with  Dr.  James  Geikie  that  it  isn  't  to  be 
measured  by  mere  calculations  of  ten  or  twenty  centuries, 
but  of  ten  or  twenty  thousand  years.  The  perspective  of 
the  past  is  opening  up  rapidly  before  us  ;  what  looked  quite 
close  yesterday  is  shown  to-day  to  lie  away  off  somewhere 
in  the  dim  distance.  Like  our  palajolithic  artists,  we  fail 
to  get  the  reindeer  fairly  behind  the  ox  in  the  foreground, 
as  we  ought  to  do  if  we  saw  the  whole  scene  properly  fore- 
shortened. 

On  the  table  where  I  write  there  lie  two  paper- weiglits, 
preserving  from  the  fate  of  the  sibylline  leaves  the  sheets  of 
foolscap  to  which  this  essay  is  now  being  committed. 
One  of  them  is  a  very  rude  flint  hatchet,  produced  by 
merely  chipping  off  flakes  from  its  side  by  dexterous  blows, 
and  utterly  unpolished  or  unground  in  any  way.  It  belongs 
to  the  age  of  the  very  old  master  (or  possibly  even  to  a 
slightly  earlier  epoch),  and  it  was  sent  me  from  Ightham, 
in  Kent,  by  that  indefatigable  uneartlier  of  preliistoric 
memorials,  Mr.  Benjamin  Harrison.  That  flint,  wbich  now 
serves  me  in  the  oflice  of  a  paper-weight,  is  far  ruder, 
simpler,  and  more  inefl'ective  than  any  weapon  or  imple- 
ment at  present  in  use  among  the  lowest  savages.  Yet  with 
it,  I  doubt  not,  some  naked  black  fellow  by  the  banks  of 


122  A  VERY  OLD  MASTER 

tLo  Thames  has  hunted  the  mammoth  among  unbroken 
forest  two  hundred  thousand  years  af,'o  and  more  ;  with  it 
he  has  faced  tlio  angry  cave  bear  and  the  origiiuil  and  only 
genuine  British  hon  (for  everybody  knows  that  the  existing 
mongrel  heraldic  beast  is  nothing  better  than  a  bastard 
modification  of  the  leopard  of  the  Plantagenets).  Nay,  I 
have  very  little  doubt  in  my  own  mind  that  with  it  some 
fcsthetic  ancestor  has  brained  and  cut  up  for  his  use  his 
next-door  neighbour  in  the  nearest  cavern,  and  then  carved 
upon  his  well-picked  bones  an  interesting  sketch  of  the  entire 
performance.  The  Du  Mauriers  of  that  remote  age,  in  fact, 
habitually  drew  their  society  pictures  upon  the  personal 
remains  of  the  mammoth  or  the  man  whom  they  wished 
to  caricature  in  deathless  bone-cuts.  The  other  paper- 
weight is  a  polished  neolithic  tomahawk,  belonging  to  the 
period  of  the  mound-builders,  who  succeeded  the  Glacial 
Epoch,  and  it  measures  the  distance  between  the  two  levels 
of  civilisation  with  great  accuracy.  It  is  the  military 
weapon  of  a  trained  barbaric  warrior  as  opposed  to  the 
miiversal  implement  and  utensil  of  a  rude,  solitary,  savage 
hunter.  Yet  how  curious  it  is  that  even  in  the  midst  of 
this  '  so-called  nineteenth  century,'  which  perpetually  pro- 
claims itself  an  age  of  progress,  men  should  still  prefer  to 
believe  themselves  inferior  to  their  original  ancestors, 
instead  of  being  superior  to  them  !  The  idea  that  man 
has  risen  is  considered  base,  degrading,  and  positively 
wicked ;  the  idea  that  he  has  fallen  is  considered  to  be 
immensely  inspiring,  ennobling,  and  beautiful.  For  myself, 
I  have  somehow  always  preferred  the  boast  of  the  Homeric 
Glaucus  that  w^e  indeed  maintain  ourselves  to  be  much 
better  men  than  ever  were  our  fathers. 


BRITISU  AND  FOREIGN  123 


BBITISH  AND  FOUEIGN 

Strictly  speaking,  there  is  nothing  really  and  truly 
British ;  everybody  and  everything  is  a  naturalised  alien. 
Viewed  as  Britons,  we  all  of  us,  human  and  animal,  differ 
from  one  another  simply  in  the  length  of  time  we  and  our 
ancestors  have  continuously  inhabited  this  favoured  and 
foggy  isle  of  Britain.  Look,  for  example,  at  the  men  and 
women  of  us.  Some  of  us,  no  doubt,  are  more  or  less  re- 
motely of  Norman  blood,  and  came  over,  like  that  noble 
family  the  Slys,  with  llicluird  Conqueror.  Others  of  us, 
perhaps,  are  in  the  main  Scandinavian,  and  date  back  a 
couple  of  generations  earlier,  to  the  bare-legged  followers 
of  Canute  and  Guthrum.  Yet  others,  once  more,  are  true 
Saxon  Englishmen,  descendants  of  Hengest,  if  there  ever 
was  a  Hengest,  or  of  Ilorsa,  if  a  genuine  liorsa  ever  actually 
existed.  None  of  these,  it  is  quite  clear,  have  any  just 
right  or  title  to  be  considered  in  the  last  resort  as  true-born 
Britons  ;  they  are  all  of  them  just  as  much  foreigners  at 
bottom  as  the  Spitalfields  Huguenots  or  the  Pembroke- 
shire Flemings,  the  Italian  organ-boy  and  the  Hindoo  prince 
disguised  as  a  crossing-sweeper.  But  surely  the  Welshman 
and  the  Highland  Scot  at  least  are  undeniable  Britishers, 
sprung  from  the  soil  and  to  the  manner  born  !  Not  a  bit 
of  it ;  inexorable  modern  science,  diving  back  remorselessly 
into  the  remoter  past,  traces  the  Cymry  across  the  face  of 
Germany,  and  fixes  in  shadowy  hypothetical  numbers  the 
exact  date,  to  a  few  centuries,  of  the  first  prehistoric  Gaelic 


124  BRITISH   AND  FOREIGN 

invasion.  Even  tlie  still  earlier  brown  Euskarians  and 
yellow  Mongolians,  who  hold  the  land  before  the  advent  of 
the  ancient  Britons,  were  themselves  imnii^'ranbs  ;  the  very 
Autochthones  in  person  turn  out,  on  close  inspection,  to 
be  vagabonds  and  wanderers  and  foreign  colonists.  In 
short,  man  as  a  whole  is  not  an  indigenous  animal  at  all 
in  the  ]5ritish  Isles.  Be  he  who  he  may,  when  we  push 
his  pedigree  back  to  its  prime  original,  we  find  him  always 
arriving  in  the  end  by  the  Dover  steamer  or  the  Harwich 
packet.  Five  years,  in  fact,  are  quite  sufficient  to  give  him 
a  legal  title  to  letters  of  naturalisation,  unless  indeed  he  be 
a  German  grand-duke,  in  which  case  he  can  always  become 
an  Englishman  otihand  by  Act  of  Parliament. 

It  is  just  the  same  with  all  the  other  animals  and  plants 
that  now  inhabit  these  isles  of  Britain.  If  there  be  any- 
thing at  all  with  a  claim  to  be  considered  really  indigenous, 
it  is  the  Scotch  ptarmigan  and  the  Alpine  hare,  the  northern 
holygrass  and  the  mountain  flowers  of  the  Highland  sum- 
mits. All  the  rest  are  sojourners  and  wayfarers,  brought 
across  as  casuaL,  like  the  gipsies  and  the  Oriental  plane, 
at  various  times  to  the  United  Kingdom,  some  of  them 
recently,  some  of  them  long  ago,  but  not  one  of  them  (it 
seems),  except  the  oyster,  a  true  native.  The  common 
brown  rat,  for  instance,  as  everybody  knows,  came  over, 
not,  it  is  true,  with  William  the  Conqueror,  but  with  the 
Hanoverian  dynasty  and  King  George  I.  of  blessed  memory. 
The  familiar  cockroach,  or  '  black  beetle,'  of  our  lower 
regions,  is  an  Oriental  importation  of  the  last  century. 
The  hum  of  the  mosquito  is  now  just  beginning  to  be  heard 
in  the  land,  especially  in  some  big  London  hotels.  The 
Colorado  beetle  is  hourly  expected  by  Cunard  steamer. 
The  Canadian  roadside  erigeron  is  well  established  already 
in  the  remoter  suburbs ;  the  phylloxera  battens  on  our 
hothouse  vines  ;  the  American  river-weed  stops  the  naviga- 


BRITISH  AND   FOREIGN  125 

tion  on  our  principal  canals.  The  Ganges  and  the  Missis- 
sippi have  lon^  since  flooded  the  tawny  Tliamos,  ag 
Juvenal's  cynical  friend  declared  the  Syrian  Orontcs  had 
flooded  the  Tiher.  And  what  has  thus  hjen  going  on 
slowly  within  the  memory  of  the  last  few  generations  has 
been  going  on  constantly  from  tinie  immemorial,  and 
peopling  Britain  in  all  its  parts  with  its  now  existing  fauna 
and  flora. 

But  if  all  the  plants  and  animals  in  our  islands  are 
thus  ultimately  imported,  the  question  naturally  arises, 
What  was  there  in  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  before  any  of 
their  present  inhabitants  came  to  inherit  them  ?  The 
answer  is,  succinctly,  Nothing.  Or  if  this  be  a  little  too 
extreme,  then  let  us  imitate  the  modesty  of  Mr.  Gilbert's 
hero  and  modify  the  statement  into  Hardly  anything.  In 
England,  as  in  Northern  Europe  generally,  modern  history 
begins,  not  with  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  but  with 
the  passing  away  of  the  Glacial  Epoch.  During  that  great 
age  of  universal  ice  our  Britain,  from  end  to  end,  was 
covered  at  various  times  by  sea  and  by  glaciers ;  it  re- 
sembled on  the  whole  the  cheerful  aspect  of  Spitzbergen 
or  Nova  Zembla  at  the  present  day.  A  few  reindeer 
wandered  now  and  then  over  its  frozen  shores  ;  a  scanty 
vegetation  of  the  correlative  roiTidjcr-moss  grew  with 
difficulty  under  the  sheets  and  drifts  of  endless  snow ;  a 
stray  walrus  or  an  occasional  seal  basked  in  the  chilly 
sunshine  on  the  ice-bound  coast.  But  during  the  greatest 
extension  of  the  North-European  ice-sheet  it  is  probable 
that  life  in  London  was  completely  extinct ;  the  metropoli- 
tan area  did  not  even  vegetate.  Snow  and  snow  and  snow 
and  snow  was  then  the  short  sum-total  of  British  scenery. 
Murray's  Guides  were  rendered  quite  unnecessary,  and 
penny  ices  were  a  drug  in  the  market.  England  was  given 
up  to  one  unchanging  universal  winter. 


126  BRITISH  AND  FOREIGN 

Slowly,  however,  times  altered,  as  they  are  much  given 
to  doing ;  and  a  new  era  dawned  upon  Britain.  The  ther- 
mometer rose  rapidly,  or  at  least  it  would  have  risen,  with 
effusion,  if  it  had  yet  been  invented.  The  land  emerged 
from  the  sea,  and  southern  plants  and  animals  began  to 
invade  the  area  that  was  afterwards  to  be  England,  across 
the  broad  belt  which  then  connected  us  with  the  Continental 
system.  But  in  those  days  communications  were  slow  and 
land  transit  difficult.  You  had  to  foot  it.  The  Euro- 
pean fauna  and  flora  moved  but  gradually  and  tentatively 
north-westward,  and  before  any  large  part  of  it  could  settle  in 
England  our  island  was  finally  cut  off  from  the  mainland 
by  the  long  and  gradual  wearing  away  of  the  cliffs  at  Dover 
and  Calais.  That  accounts  for  the  comparative  poverty  of 
animal  and  vegetable  life  in  England,  and  still  more  for  its 
ex'  3me  paucity  and  meagreness  in  Ireland  and  the  High- 
lands. It  has  been  erroneously  asserted,  for  example,  that 
St.  Patrick  expelled  snakes  and  lizards,  frogs  and  toads,  from 
the  soil  of  Erin.  This  detail,  as  the  French  newspapers 
politely  phrase  it,  is  inexact.  St.  Patrick  did  not  expel  the 
reptiles,  because  there  were  never  any  reptiles  in  Ireland 
(except  dynamiters)  for  him  to  expel.  The  creatures  never 
got  so  far  on  their  long  and  toilsome  north-westward  march 
before  St.  George's  Channel  intervened  to  prevent  their 
passage  across  to  Dublin.  It  is  really,  therefore,  to  St. 
George,  rather  than  to  St.  Patrick,  that  the  absence  of 
toads  and  snakes  from  the  soil  of  Ireland  is  ultimately  due. 
The  doubtful  Cappadocian  prelate  is  well  known  to  have 
been  always  death  on  dragons  and  serpents. 

As  long  ago  as  the  sixteenth  century,  indeed,  Verstegan 
the  antiquary  clearly  saw  that  the  existence  of  badgers  and 
foxes  in  England  implied  the  former  presence  of  a  belt  of 
land  joining  the  British  Islands  to  the  Continent  of  Europe ; 
for,  as  he  acutely  observed,  nobody  (before  fox-hunting,  at 


BRITISH  AND  FOREIGN  127 

least)  would  ever  have  taken  the  trouble  to  bring  tliem 
over.  Still  more  does  the  presence  in  our  islands  of  the 
red  deer,  and  formerly  of  the  wild  white  cattle,  the  wolf, 
the  bear,  and  the  wild  boar,  to  say  nothing  of  the  beaver, 
the  otter,  the  squirrel,  and  the  weasel,  prove  that  England 
was  once  conterminous  with  France  or  Belgium.  At  the 
very  best  of  times,  however,  before  Sir  Ewen  Cameron  of 
Lochiel  had  killed  positively  the  last  '  last  wolf '  in  Britain 
(several  other  '  last  wolves '  having  previously  been  des- 
patched by  various  earlier  intrepid  exterminators),  our 
English  fauna  was  far  from  a  rich  one,  especially  as  regards 
the  larger  quadrupeds.  In  bats,  birds,  and  insects  we  have 
always  done  better,  because  to  such  creatures  a  belt  of  sea  is 
not  by  any  means  an  insuperable  barrier ;  whereas  in  reptiles 
and  amphibians,  on  the  contrary,  we  have  always  been 
weak,  seeing  that  most  reptiles  are  bad  swimmers,  and  very 
few  can  rival  the  late  lamented  Captain  Webb  in  liis  feat 
of  crossing  the  Channel,  as  Leander  and  Lord  Byron  did 
the  Hellespont. 

Only  one  good-sized  animal,  so  far  as  known,  is  now 
peculiar  to  the  British  Isles,  and  that  is  our  familiar 
friend  the  red  grouse  of  the  Scotch  moors.  I  doubt,  how- 
ever, whether  even  he  is  really  indigenous  in  the  strictest 
sense  of  the  word  :  that  is  to  say,  whether  he  was  evolved 
in  and  for  these  islands  exclusively,  as  the  moa  and  the  ap- 
teryx  were  evolved  for  New  Zealand,  and  the  extinct  dodo  for 
Mauritius  alone.  It  is  far  more  probable  that  the  red  grouse 
is  the  original  variety  of  the  willow  grouse  of  Scandinavia, 
which  has  retained  throughout  the  year  its  old  plumage, 
while  its  more  northern  cousins  among  the  fiords  and  fjelds 
have  taken,  under  stress  of  weather,  to  donning  a  complete 
white  dress  in  winter,  and  a  grey  or  speckled  tourist  suit 
for  the  summer  season. 

Even  since  the  insulation  of  Britain  a  great  many  new 


128  BRITISH  AND  FOREIGN 

plants  and  animals  have  been  added  to  our  population, 
both  by  human  desijj^n  and  in  several  other  casual  fashions. 
The  fallow  deer  is  said  to  have  been  introduced  by  the 
Romans,  and  domesticated  ever  since  in  the  successive 
parks  of  Celt  and  Saxon,  Dane  and  Norman.  The  edible 
snail,  still  scattered  thinly  over  our  southern  downs,  and 
abundant  at  Box  Hill  and  a  few  other  spots  in  Surrey  or 
Sussex,  was  brought  over,  they  tell  us,  by  the  same  lux- 
urious Italian  epicures,  and  is  even  now  confined,  imagi- 
native naturalists  declare,  to  the  immediate  neighbourhood 
of  Roman  stations.  The  mediaeval  monks,  in  like  manner, 
introduced  the  carp  for  their  Friday  dinners.  One  of  our 
commonest  river  mussels  at  the  present  day  did  not  exist 
in  England  at  all  a  century  ago,  but  was  ferried  hither 
from  the  Volga,  clinging  to  the  bottoms  of  vessels  from  the 
Black  Sea,  and  has  now  spread  itself  through  all  our  brooks 
and  streams  to  the  very  heart  and  centre  of  England. 
Thus,  from  day  to  day,  as  in  society  at  large,  new  introduc- 
tions constantly  take  place,  and  old  friends  die  out  for  ever. 
The  brown  rat  replaces  the  old  English  black  rat ;  strange 
weeds  kill  off  the  weeds  of  ancient  days ;  fresh  flies  and 
grubs  and  beetles  crop  up,  and  disturb  the  primitive 
entomological  balance.  The  bustard  is  gone  from  Salis- 
bury Plain  ;  the  fenland  butterflies  have  disappeared  with 
the  drainage  of  the  fens.  In  their  place  the  red-legged 
partridge  invades  Norfolk ;  the  American  black  bass  is 
making  himself  quite  at  home,  with  Yankee  assurance,  in 
our  sluggish  rivers ;  and  the  spoonbill  is  nesting  of  its 
own  accord  among  the  warmer  corners  of  the  Sussex  downs. 
In  the  plant  world,  substitution  often  takes  place  far 
more  rapidly.  I  doubt  whether  the  stinging  nettle,  which 
renders  picnicking  a  nuisance  in  England,  is  truly  in- 
digenous ;  certainly  the  two  worst  kinds,  the  smaller  nettle 
and  the  Roman  nettle,  are  quite  recent  denizens,  never 


BRITISH  AND  FOREIGN  129 

straying,  even  at  the  present  day,  far  from  the  precincts  of 
farmyards  and  villages.  The  shepherd's-purse  und  many 
other  common  garden  weeds  of  cultivation  are  of  Eastern 
origin,  and  came  to  us  at  first  with  the  seed-corn  and  the 
peas  from  the  Mediterranean  region.  Corn-cockles  and 
corn-flowers  are  equally  foreign  and  equally  artificial ;  even^ 
the  scarlet  poppy,  seldom  found  except  in  wheat-fields  or 
around  waste  places  in  villages,  has  probably  followed  the 
course  of  tillage  ^^'om  some  remote  and  ancient  Eastern 
origin.  There  is  a  pretty  blue  veronica  which  was  unknown 
in  England  some  thirty  years  since,  but  which  then  began 
to  spread  in  gardens,  and  is  now  one  of  the  commonest  and 
most  troublesome  weeds  throughout  the  whole  country. 
Other  familiar  wild  plants  have  first  been  brought  over  as 
garden  flowers.  There  is  the  wall-flower,  for  instance,  now 
escaped  from  cultivation  in  every  part  of  Britain,  and  mant- 
ling with  its  yellow  bunches  both  old  churches  and  houses 
and  also  the  crannies  of  the  limestone  clift's  around  lialf 
the  shores  of  England.  The  common  stock  has  similarly 
overrun  the  sea-front  of  the  Isle  of  AVight ;  the  monkey- 
plant,  originally  a  Chilian  flower,  has  run  wild  in  many 
boggy  spots  in  England  and  Wales  ;  and  a  North  American 
balsam,  seldom  cultivated  even  in  cottage  gardens,  has 
managed  to  establish  itself  in  profuse  abundance  along  the 
banks  of  the  Wey  about  Guildford  and  Godalming.  One 
little  garden  linaria,  at  first  employed  as  an  ornament  for 
hanging-baskets,  has  become  so  common  on  old  walls  and 
banks  as  to  be  now  considered  a  mere  weed,  and  extermi- 
nated accordingly  by  fashionable  gardeners.  Such  are  the 
miaccountable  reverses  of  fortune,  that  one  age  will  pay 
fifty  guineas  a  bulb  for  a  plant  which  the  next  age  grubs 
up  unanimously  as  a  vulgar  intruder.  White  of  Belborne 
noticed  with  delight  in  his  own  kitchen  that  rare  insect, 
the  Oriental  coclyoach,  lately  imported  ;  and  Mr.  Brewer 


130  BRITISH  AND  FOREIGN 

observed  with  joy  in  his  garden  at  Reigate  the  blue  Bux- 
baum  spoedweU,  which  is  now  the  acknowledged  and  hated 
pest  of  the  Surrey  agriculturist. 

The  history  of  some  of  these  waifs  and  strays  which  go 
to  make  up  the  wider  population  of  Britain  is  indeed  sulli- 
ciently  remarkable.  Like  all  islands,  England  has  a  frag- 
mentary fauna  and  flora,  whose  members  have  often  drifted 
towards  it  in  the  most  wonderful  and  varied  manner. 
Sometimes  they  bear  witness  to  ancient  land  connections, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  spotted  Portuguese  slug  which  Pro- 
fessor Allman  found  calmly  disporting  itself  on  the  basking 
cliffs  in  the  Killarney  district.  In  former  days,  when  Spain 
and  Ireland  joined  hands  in  the  middle  of  the  Bay  of 
Biscay,  the  ancestors  of  this  placid  Lusitanian  mollusk 
must  have  ranged  (good  word  to  apply  to  slugs)  from  the 
groves  of  Cintra  to  the  Cove  of  Cork.  But,  as  time  rolled 
on,  the  cruel  crawling  sea  rolled  on  also,  and  cut  away  all 
the  western  world  from  the  foot  of  the  Asturias  to 
Macgillicuddy's  Reeks.  So  the  spotted  slug  continued  to 
survive  in  two  distinct  and  divided  bodies,  a  large  one  in 
South-western  Europe,  and  a  small  isolated  colony,  ail 
alone  by  itself,  around  the  Kerry  mountains  and  the  Lakes 
of  Killarney.  At  other  times  pure  accident  accounts  for 
the  presence  of  a  particular  species  in  the  mainlands  of 
Britain.  For  cxaraple,  the  Bermuda  grass-lily,  a  common 
American  plant,  is  known  in  a  wild  state  nowhere  in  Europe 
save  at  a  place  called  Woodford,  in  county  Gahvay.  Nobody 
ever  planted  it  there  ;  it  has  simply  sprung  up  from  some 
single  seed,  carried  over,  perhaps,  on  the  feet  of  a  bird,  or 
cast  ashore  by  the  Gulf  Stream  on  the  hospitable  coast  of 
Western  Ireland.  Yet  there  it  has  flourished  and  thriven 
ever  since,  a  naturalised  British  subject  of  undoubted 
origin,  without  ever  spreading  to  north  or  south  above  a 
few  miles  from  its  adopted  habitat. 


BRITISH  AND  FOREIGN  131 

There  are  several  of  those  unconscious  American  importa- 
tions in  various  parts  of  Britain,  some  of  them,  no  doubt, 
brought  over  with  seeJ-corn  or  among  the  straw  of  packing- 
cases,  but  others  unconnected  in  any  way  with  human 
agency,  and  owing  tlieir  presence  here  to  natural  causes. 
That  pretty  little  Yankee  weed,  the  claytonia,  now  common 
in  parts  of  Lancashire  and  Oxfordshire,  first  made  its 
appearance  amongst  us,  I  believe,  by  its  seeds  being 
accidentally  included  with  the  sawdust  in  which  Wenhara 
Lake  ice  is  packed  for  transport.  The  Canadian  rivei  weed 
is  known  first  to  have  escaped  from  tlie  botanical  gardens 
at  Cambridge,  whence  it  spread  rapidly  through  the  con- 
genial dykes  and  sluices  of  the  fen  country,  and  so  into 
the  entire  navigable  network  of  the  Midland  counties.  But 
there  are  other  aliens  of  older  settlement  amongst  us,  aliens 
of  American  origin  which  nevertheless  arrived  in  Britain, 
in  all  probability,  long  before  Columbus  ever  set  foot  on  the 
low  basking  sandbank  of  Cat  Island.  Such  is  the  jointed 
pond-sedge  of  the  Hebrides,  a  water-weed  found  abundantly 
in  the  lakes  and  tarns  of  the  Isle  of  Skye,  Mull  and  Coll, 
and  the  west  coast  of  Ireland,  but  occurring  nowhere  else 
throughout  the  whole  expanse  of  Europe  or  Asia.  How 
did  it  get  tliere  ?  Clearly  its  seeds  were  either  washed  by 
the  waves  or  carried  by  birds,  and  thus  deposited  on  the 
nearest  European  shores  to  America.  But  if  Mr.  Alfred 
Eussel  Wallace  had  been  alive  in  pre-Columban  days 
(which,  as  Euclid  remarks,  is  absurd),  he  would  readily 
have  inferred,  from  the  frequent  occurrence  of  such  un- 
known plants  along  the  western  verge  of  Britain,  that  a 
great  continent  lay  unexplored  to  the  westward,  and  would 
promptly  have  proceeded  to  discover  and  annex  it.  As  Mr. 
Wallace  was  not  yet  born,  however,  Columbus  took  a  mean 
advantage  over  him,  and  discovered  it  first  by  mere  right 
of  primogeniture. 


132  BRITISH  AND  FOREIGN 

In  other  cases,  the  circumstances  under  ■which  a  par- 
ticular plant  appears  in  England  are  often  very  suspicious. 
Take  the  instance  of  the  belladonna,  or  deadly  nightshade, 
an  extremely  rare  British  species,  found  only  in  the 
immediate  neighbourhood  of  old  castles  and  monastic 
buildings.  Belladonna,  of  course,  is  a  deadly  poison,  and 
was  much  used  in  the  half-magical,  half-criminal  sorceries 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  Did  you  wish  to  remove  a  trouble- 
some rival  or  an  elder  brother,  you  treated  him  to  a  dose 
of  deadly  nightshade.  Yet  why  should  it,  in  company  with 
many  other  poisonous  exotics,  be  found  so  frequently 
around  the  ruins  of  monasteries  ?  Did  the  holy  fathers — 
but  no,  the  thought  is  too  irreverent.  Let  us  keep  our 
illusions,  and  forget  the  friar  and  the  apothecary  in  *  Romeo 
and  Juliet.' 

Belladonna  has  never  fairly  taken  root  in  English  soil. 
It  remains,  like  the  Roman  snail  and  the  Portuguese  slug, 
a  mere  casual  straggler  about  its  ancient  haunts.  But 
there  are  other  plants  which  have  fairly  established  their 
claim  to  be  considered  as  native-born  Britons,  though  they 
came  to  us  at  first  as  aliens  and  colonists  from  foreign 
parts.  Such,  to  take  a  single  case,  is  the  history  of  the 
common  alexanders,  now  a  familiar  weed  around  villages 
and  farmyards,  but  only  introduced  into  England  as  a  pot- 
herb about  the  eighth  or  ninth  century.  It  was  long  grown 
in  cottage  gardens  for  table  purposes,  but  has  for  ages  been 
superseded  in  that  way  by  celery.  Nevertheless,  it  con- 
tinues to  grow  all  about  our  lanes  and  hedges,  side  by  side 
with  another  quaintly-named  plant,  bishop-weed  or  gout- 
weed,  whose  very  titles  in  themselves  bear  curious  witness 
to  its  original  uses  in  this  isle  of  Britain.  I  don't  know 
why,  but  it  is  an  historical  fact  that  the  early  prelates  of 
tlie  English  Church,  saintly  or  otherwise,  were  peculiarly 
liable  to  that  very  episcopal  disease,  the  gout.     Whether 


BKITISU  AND  FOREIGN  133 

their  frequent  fasting  produced  this  effect ;  •svhctlicr,  as 
they  themselves  piously  alleged,  it  was  due  to  constant 
kneeling  on  the  cold  stones  of  churches ;  or  whether,  as 
their  enemies  rather  insinuated,  it  was  due  in  greater 
measure  to  the  excellent  wines  presented  to  them  by  their 
Itolisbn  con frdres,  is  a  minute  question  to  be  decided  by  ^Ir. 
Freeman,  not  by  the  present  humble  inquirer.  But  the 
fact  remains  that  bishops  and  gout  got  indelibly  associated 
in  the  public  mind ;  that  the  episcopal  toes  were  looked 
upon  as  especially  subject  to  that  insidious  disease  up  to 
the  very  end  of  the  last  century  ;  and  that  they  do  say  the 
bishops  even  now — but  I  refrain  from  the  commission  of 
scandalum  magnatum.  Anyhow,  this  particular  weed  was 
held  to  be  a  specific  for  the  bishop's  evil ;  and,  being  intro- 
duced and  cultivated  for  the  purpose,  it  came  to  be  known 
indifferently  to  herbalists  as  bishop-weed  and  gout-weed. 
It  has  now  long  since  ceased  to  be  a  recognised  member  of 
the  British  Pharmacopoeia,  but,  having  overrun  our  lanes 
and  thickets  in  its  flush  period,  it  remains  to  this  day  a 
visible  botanical  and  etymological  memento  of  the  past 
twinges  of  episcopal  remorse. 

Taken  as  a  whole,  one  may  fairly  say  that  the  total 
population  of  the  British  Isles  consists  mainly  of  three 
great  elements.  The  first  and  oldest — the  only  one  with 
any  real  claim  to  be  considered  as  truly  native — is  the  cold 
Northern,  Alpine  and  Arctic  element,  comprising  such 
animals  as  the  white  hare  of  Scotland,  the  ptarmigan,  the 
pine  marten,  and  the  capercailzie — the  last  once  extinct, 
and  now  reintroduced  into  the  Highlands  as  a  game  bird. 
This  very  ancient  fauna  and  flora,  left  behind  soon  after 
the  Glacial  Epoch,  and  perhaps  in  part  a  relic  of  the  type 
which  still  struggled  on  in  favoured  spots  during  that 
terrible  period  of  universal  ice  and  snow,  now  survives  for 
the  most  part  only  in  the  extreme  north  and  on  the  highest 


134  imiTISH  AND  FOREIGN 

and  chilliest  mountain-tops,  where  it  has  gradually  been 
driven,  like  tourists  in  August,  by  the  increasing  -warmth 
and  sultriness  of  the  southern  lowlands.  The  summits  of 
the  principal  Scotch  hills  are  occupied  by  many  Arctic 
plants,  now  slowly  dying  out,  but  lingering  yet  as  last 
relics  of  that  old  native  British  flora.  The  Alpine  milk 
vetch  thus  loiters  among  the  rocks  of  Braemar  and  Clova  ; 
the  Arctic  brook- saxifrage  flowers  but  sparingly  near  the 
summit  of  Ben  Lawers,  Ben  Nevis,  and  Lochnagar ;  its 
still  more  northern  ally,  the  drooping  saxifrage,  is  now  ex- 
tinct in  all  Britain,  save  on  a  single  snowy  Scotch  height, 
where  it  now  rarely  blossoms,  and  will  soon  become 
altogether  obsolete.  There  are  other  northern  plants  of 
this  first  and  oldest  British  type,  like  the  Ural  oxytrope, 
the  cloudberry,  and  the  white  dryas,  which  remain  as  yet 
even  in  the  moors  of  Yorkshire,  or  over  considerable  tracts 
in  the  Scotch  Highlands  ;  there  are  others  restricted  to  a 
single  spot  among  the  Welsh  hills,  an  isolated  skerry 
among  the  outer  Hebrides,  or  a  solitary  summit  in  the 
Lake  District.  But  wherever  they  linger,  these  true-born 
Britons  of  the  old  rock  are  now  but  strangers  and  outcasts 
in  the  land  ;  the  intrusive  foreigner  has  driven  them  to  die 
on  the  cold  mountain-tops,  as  the  Celt  drove  the  Mongolian 
to  the  hills,  and  the  Saxon,  in  turn,  has  driven  the  Celt  to 
the  Highlands  and  the  islands.  Yet  as  late  as  the  twelfth 
century  itself,  even  the  true  reindeer,  the  Arctic  monarch 
of  the  Glacial  Epoch,  was  still  hunted  by  Norwegian  jarls 
of  Orkney  on  the  mainland  of  Caithness  and  Sutherland- 
shire. 

Second  in  age  is  the  warm  western  and  south-western 
type,  the  type  represented  by  the  Portuguese  slug,  the 
arbutus  trees  and  Mediterranean  heaths  of  the  Killarney 
district,  the  flora  of  Cornwall  and  the  Scilly  Isles,  and  the 
peculiar  wild  flowers  of  South  Wales,  Devonshire,  and  the 


BRITISH  AND  FOREIGN  13.) 

west  country  generally.  This  class  belongs  by  origin  to 
the  submerged  land  of  Lyonesse,  the  -warm  champaign 
country  that  once  spread  westward  over  the  l)uy  of  Biscay, 
and  derived  from  the  Gulf  Stream  the  genial  climate  still 
preserved  by  its  last  remnants  at  Tresco  and  St.  Mary's. 
The  animals  belonging  to  this  secondary  stratum  of  our 
British  population  are  few  and  rare,  but  of  its  plants  there 
are  not  a  few,  some  of  them  extending  over  the  whole 
western  shores  of  England,  Wales,  Scotland,  and  Ireland, 
wherever  they  are  washed  by  the  Gulf  Stream,  and  others 
now  confined  to  particular  spots,  often  with  the  oddest 
apparent  capriciousness.  Thus,  two  or  three  southern 
types  of  clover  are  peculiar  to  the  Lizard  Point,  in  Corn- 
wall ;  a  little  Spanish  and  Italian  restharrow  has  got 
stranded  in  the  Channel  Islands  and  on  tiie  Mull  of 
Galloway ;  the  spotted  rock-rose  of  the  Mediterranean 
grows  only  in  Kerry,  Gahvay,  and  Anglesea ;  while  other 
plants  of  the  same  warm  habit  are  confined  to  such  spots 
as  Torquay,  Babbicombe,  Dawlish,  Cork,  Swansea,  Ax- 
minster,  and  the  Scilly  Isles.  Of  course,  all  peninsulas 
and  islands  are  warmer  in  temperature  than  inland  places, 
and  so  these  relics  of  the  lost  Lyonesse  have  survived  here 
and  there  in  Cornwall,  Carnarvonshire,  Kerry,  and  other 
very  projecting  headlands  long  after  they  have  died  out 
altogether  from  the  main  central  mass  of  Britain.  South- 
western Ireland  in  particular  is  almost  Portuguese  in  the 
general  aspect  of  its  fauna  and  flora. 

Third  and  latest  of  all  in  time,  though  almost  con- 
temporary with  the  southern  type,  is  the  central  European 
or  Germanic  element  in  our  population.  Sad  as  it  is  to 
confess  it,  the  truth  must  nevertheless  be  told,  that  our 
beasts  and  birds,  our  plants  and  flowers,  are  for  the  most 
part  of  purely  Teutonic  origin.  Even  as  the  rude  and 
hard-headed  Anglo-Saxon  has  driven  the  gentle,  poetical, 


13G  BRITISH  AND  FOREIGN 

and  imaginative  Celt  ever  westward  before  him  into  tlie 
hills  and  the  sea,  so  the  rude  and  vif(orous  Germanic  beasts 
and  weeds  liave  driven  the  gentler  and  softer  southern 
types  into  Wales  and  Cornwall,  Galloway  and  Conneinara. 
It  is  to  the  central  European  population  that  we  owe  or 
owed  the  red  deer,  the  wild  boar,  the  bear,  the  wolf,  the 
beaver,  the  fox,  tlie  badger,  the  otter,  and  the  squirrel.  It 
is  to  the  central  European  flora  that  wo  owe  the  larger 
imrt  of  the  most  familiar  plants  in  all  eastern  and  south- 
eastern England.  They  crossed  in  bands  over  the  old 
land  belt  before  Britain  was  finally  insulated,  and  they 
have  gone  on  steadily  ever  since,  with  true  Teutonic  per- 
sistence, overrunning  the  land  and  pushing  slowly  west- 
ward, like  all  other  German  bands  before  or  since,  to  the 
detriment  and  discomfort  of  the  previous  inhabitants.  Let 
us  humbly  remember  that  we  are  all  of  us  at  bottom 
foreigners  alike,  but  that  it  is  the  Teutonic  English,  the 
people  from  the  old  Low  Dutch  fatherland  by  the  Elbe, 
who  have  finally  given  to  this  isle  its  name  of  England, 
and  to  every  one  of  us,  Celt  or  Teuton,  their  own  Teutonic 
name  of  Englishmen.  Wo  are  at  best,  as  an  irate  Teuton 
once  remarked,  *  nozzing  but  segond-hand  Chermans.'  In 
the  words  of  a  distinguished  modern  philologist  of  our  own 
blood, '  English  is  Dutch,  spoken  with  a  Welsh  accent.' 


TUUNDERBOLTS  137 


THUNDERBOLTS 

The  subject  of  thunderbolts  is  a  very  fascinating  one,  and 
all  the  more  so  because  there  are  no  such  things  in  exist- 
ence at  all  as  thunderbolts  of  any  sort.  Like  the  snakes  of 
Iceland,  their  whole  history  might,  from  the  positive  point 
of  view  at  least,  be  summed  up  in  the  simple  statement  of 
their  utter  no]ioiitity.  But  does  that  do  away  in  the  least, 
I  should  like  to  know,  with  their  intrinsic  interest  and  im- 
portance '?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  It  only  adds  to  the  mystery 
and  charm  of  the  whole  subject.  Does  anyone  feel  as 
keenly  interested  in  any  real  living  cobra  or  anaconda  as 
in  the  non-existent  great  sea-serpent  ?  Are  ghosts  and 
vampires  less  attractive  objects  of  popular  study  than  cats 
and  donkeys  ?  Can  the  present  King  of  Abyssinia,  inter- 
viewed by  our  own  correspondent,  equal  the  romantic  charm 
of  Prester  John,  or  the  butcher  in  the  next  street  rival 
the  personality  of  Sir  Roger  Charles  Doughty  Tichborne, 
Baronet  ?  No,  the  real  fact  is  this  :  if  there  icere  thunder- 
bolts, the  question  of  their  nature  and  action  would  be  a 
wholly  dull,  scientific,  and  priggish  one  ;  it  is  their  un- 
reality alone  that  invests  them  with  all  the  mysterious 
weirdness  of  pure  fiction.  Lightning,  now,  is  a  common 
thing  that  one  reads  about  wearily  in  the  books  on  electricity, 
a  mere  ordinary  matter  of  positive  and  negative,  density  and 
potential,  to  be  measured  in  ohms  (whatever  they  may  be), 
and  partially  imitated  with  Leyden  jars  and  red  sealing-wax 
apparatus.     Why,  did  not  Benjamin  Franklin,  a  fat  old 


138  TlIUNDKUnOLTS 

gentlciiiaii  in  ill-fittin;^'  Hiiiall  clotlics,  bring  it  down  from 
tho  clouda  "witli  a  siuiplc!  door-koy,  sonicwlioro  near  Tiiila- 
dc'lphia?  and  docs  not  Mr.  Ilobcrt  Scott  (of  tlio  Meteoro- 
logical Ofliee)  calndy  predict  its  probable  occurrence  witbiii 
tlio  next  twenty-four  bours  in  bis  daily  re|)ort,  as  publisbed 
regularly  in  tbc  morning  jjapers?  Tbis  is  ligbtning,  nu'ro 
vulgar  ligbtning,  a  sinkplo  result  of  electrical  conditions 
in  tbo  upper  atniospbere,  inconveniently  connected  witb 
algebraical  formulas  in  x,  ij,  z,  witb  borrid  syndjols  inter- 
spersed in  Greek  betters.  But  tbo  real  tbunderbolts  of 
Jove,  the  weapons  tbat  tlie  angry  Zeus,  or  Tbor,  or  Indra 
liurls  down  upon  tbo  bead  of  tbo  trembling  malefactor — 
bow  inlinitely  grander,  more  fearsome,  and  more  myste- 
rious ! 

And  yet  even  nowadays,  I  believe,  there  are  a  large 
number  of  well-informed  people,  who  have  passed  the  sixth 
standard,  taken  prizes  at  the  Oxford  Local,  and  attended 
the  dullest  lectures  of  the  Society  for  University  Extension, 
but  who  nevertheless  in  some  vague  and  dim  corner  of  their 
consciousness  retain  somehow  a  lingering  faith  in  tbo 
existence  of  thunderbolts.  They  have  not  yet  grasped  in 
its  entirety  the  simple  truth  tbat  ligbtning  is  the  reality  of 
which  tbunderbolts  are  the  mythical,  or  fanciful,  or  verbal 
representation.  We  all  of  us  know  now  that  lightning  is 
a  mere  Hash  of  electric  light  a) id  beat ;  tbat  it  has  no  solid 
existence  or  core  of  any  sort ;  in  short,  tbat  it  is  dynamical 
rather  than  material,  a  state  or  movement  rather  than  a 
body  or  thing.  To  be  sure,  local  newspa])crs  still  talk 
■with  much  show  of  learning  about  *  the  electric  fluid ' 
which  did  such  remarkable  damage  last  week  upon  the 
slated  steeple  of  Peddlington  Torpida  Church  ;  but  tho 
well-crammed  schoolboy  of  the  present  day  has  long  since 
learned  that  the  electric  fluid  is  an  exploded  fallacy,  and 
that  the  lightning  which  pulled  the  ten   slates   oif  the 


TIIUNDEUBOLTS  139 

Bteoplo  in  question  was  nothing];  more  in  its  real  niituro 
than  a  very  big  inunatorial  spark,  llowevei,  tho  word 
tlnniderbolt  has  survived  to  us  from  tlie  days  when  peoplo 
still  l)eheved  tiiat  tlio  thing  whicli  did  the  damage  during 
a  thunderstorm  was  really  and  truly  a  gigantic  white-hot 
bolt  or  arrow  ;  arid,  as  there  is  a  naturiil  tendency  in  human 
nature  to  lit  an  existence  to  every  word,  people  even  now 
continue  to  inuigine  that  there  must  be  actually  something 
or  other  somewhere  called  a  thundi'rbolt.  ^I'liey  don't 
iigure  this  thing  to  themselves  as  being  identical  with  tho 
lightning ;  o)i  tho  contrary,  they  sisem  to  regard  it  as 
something  inlinitely  rarer,  more  terrible,  and  more  mystic ; 
but  they  firmly  hold  that  thunderbolts  do  exist  in  real  life, 
and  even  sometimes  assert  that  they  themselves  have  posi- 
tively seen  them. 

l>ut,  if  seeing  is  believing,  it  is  C(iually  true,  as  all  who 
have  looked  into  the  phenomena  of  spiritualism  and 
'  psychical  research  '  (modern  Englisli  for  ghost-hunting) 
know  too  well,  thiit  believing  is  seemg  also.  The  origin 
of  the  faith  in  thunderbolts  must  be  looked  for  (like  the 
origin  of  the  faith  in  ghosts  and  'psychical  phenomena') 
far  back  in  the  history  of  our  race.  The  noble  savage,  at 
that  early  period  when  wild  in  woods  he  ran,  luitu rally 
noticed  the  existence  of  thunder  and  lightning,  because 
thunder  and  lightning  arc  things  that  forcibly  obtrude 
themselves  upon  the  attention  of  the  observer,  however 
little  he  may  by  nature  be  scientifically  inclined.  Indeed, 
the  noble  savage,  sleeping  naked  on  the  bare  ground,  in 
tropical  countries  where  thunder  occurs  almost  every  night 
on  an  average,  was  sure  to  be  pretty  often  awaked  from 
his  peaceful  slumbers  by  the  torrents  of  rain  tliat  habitually 
accompany  thunderstorms  in  the  happy  realms  of  ever- 
lasting dog-days.  Primitive  man  was  thereupon  compelled 
to  do  a  little  philosophising  on  his  own  account  as  to  the 
10 


140  TIIUNDEUHOLTS 

cause  and  origin  of  tlio  rumbling  and  flashing  which  he 
saw  so  constantly  around  him.  Naturally  enough,  ho  con- 
clud(Hl  that  tho  sound  must  bo  tho  voice  of  somobody ;  and 
that  tho  fiery  shaft,  wlioso  elTects  he  sometimes  noted  upon 
trees,  animals,  and  his  fellow-man,  must  be  the  somebody'a 
arrow.  It  is  immateriiil  from  this  point  of  view  whether, 
as  tho  scientific  anthropologists  hold,  he  was  led  to  his 
conception  of  these  supernatural  personages  from  his  prior 
beli(>f  in  ghosts  and  spirits,  or  whether,  as  Professor  INIax 
!Miiller  will  have  it,  he  felt  a  deep  yearning  in  his  primitive 
savage  breast  toward  the  Infhiito  and  the  Unknowable 
(which  he  would  doubtless  have  spelt,  like  the  Professor, 
with  a  capital  initial,  had  ho  been  acquainted  with  tha 
intricacies  of  the  yet  uninvented  alphabet)  ;  but  this  mucii 
at  least  is  pretty  certain,  that  he  looked  upon  the  thunder 
and  tho  lightning  as  in  some  sense  the  voice  and  the  arrows 
of  an  aerial  god. 

Now,  this  idea  about  the  arrows  is  itself  very  signifi- 
cant of  the  mental  attitude  of  primitive  man,  and  of  tho 
way  that  mental  attitude  has  coloured  all  subsequent 
thinking  and  superstition  upon  this  very  subject.  Curiously 
enough,  to  the  present  day  the  concejition  of  the  thunder- 
bolt is  essentially  one  of  a  holt  —  ilmt  is  to  say,  an  arrow, 
or  at  least  an  arrowhead.  All  existing  thunderbolts  (aiul 
there  are  plenty  of  them  lying  about  casually  in  country 
houses  and  local  museums)  are  more  or  less  arrow-like  in 
shape  and  appeju'ance  ;  some  of  them,  indeed,  as  we  i-hall 
see  by-and-by,  are  the  actual  stone  arrowlieads  of  primitive 
man  himself  in  person.  Of  course  the  noble  savage  was 
himself  in  the  constant  habit  of  shooting  at  aninuils  and 
enemies  with  a  bow  and  arrow.  Wlien,  then,  he  tried  to 
figure  to  himself  tho  angry  god,  seated  in  the  storm-clouds, 
■who  spolvQ  with  such  a  loud  rumbling  voice,  and  killed 
those  who  displeased  him  with  his  fiery  darts,  ho  naturally 


THUNDERBOLTS  141 

thought  of  him  as  using  in  liis  cloudy  home  tlio  famihar 
bow  and  arrow  of  this  nether  phmot.  To  us  nowaihiys,  if 
wo  were  to  begin  forming  the  idea  for  ourselves  all  over 
again  dc  novo,  it  would  be  far  more  natural  to  tliink  of  tlio 
thunder  as  the  noise  of  a  big  gun,  of  the  lightning  as  the 
ilasli  of  the  powder,  and  of  the  sM|)|)osed  '  bolt '  as  a  sliell 
or  bullet.  There  is  really  a  ridiculous  resemblance  between 
a  thunderstorm  and  a  discharge  of  artillery.  ]>ut  the  old 
conception  derived  from  so  numy  generations  of  primitive 
men  has  Jicld  its  own  against  such  mere  modern  devices 
as  gunpowder  and  rillo  balls  ;  and  none  of  the  objects 
connnonly  shown  as  thunderbolts  are  ever  round  :  they 
are  distinguished,  whatever  their  origin,  by  the  connnon 
peculiarity  that  they  more  or  less  closely  resemble  a  dart 
or  arrowhead. 

Let  us  begin,  then,  by  clearly  disembarrassing  our 
minds  of  any  lingering  belief  in  the  existence  of  thunder- 
bolts. There  are  absolutely  no  such  things  known  to 
science.  The  two  real  phenomena  that  underlie  the  fable 
are  simply  thunder  and  lightning.  A  thunderstorm  is 
merely  a  series  of  electrical  discharge's  between  one  cloud 
and  another,  or  between  clouds  and  tiio  eaith  ;  and  these 
discharges  manifest  themselves  to  our  senses  under  two 
forms — to  the  eye  as  liglitnhig,  to  the  ear  as  thunder.  All 
that  passes  in  each  case  is  a  huge  spark — a  commotion, 
not  a  material  object.  It  is  in  principle  just  like  the  spark 
from  an  electrical  machine ;  but  while  the  most  powerful 
machine  of  human  construction  will  only  send  a  spark  for 
three  feet,  the  enormous  electrical  apparatus  provided  for 
us  l)y  nature  will  seiul  one  for  four,  five,  or  even  ten  miles. 
Though  lightning  when  it  touches  the  earth  always  secuna 
to  us  to  come  from  the  clouds  to  the  ground,  it  is  by  no 
moans  certain  that  the  real  course  nuiy  not  at  least  occa- 
sionally be  in  the  opposite  direction.     All  we  know  is  that 


142  THUNDERBOLTS 

sometimes  there  is  an  instantaneous  discharge  between 
one  cloud  and  another,  and  sometimes  an  instantaneous 
discharge  between  a  cloud  and  the  earth. 

But  this  idea  of  a  mere  passage  of  highly  concentrated 
energy  from  one  point  to  another  was  far  too  abstract,  of 
course,  for  primitive  man,  and  is  far  too  abstract  even  now 
for  nine  out  of  ten  of  our  fellow- creatures.  Those  who 
don't  still  believe  in  the  bodily  thunderbolt,  a  fearsome 
aerial  weapon  which  buries  itself  deep  in  the  bosom  of  the 
earth,  look  pon  lightning  as  at  least  an  embodiment  of 
the  electric  fluid,  a  long  spout  or  line  of  molten  fire,  which 
is  usually  conceived  of  as  striking  the  ground  and  then 
proceeding  to  hide  itself  under  the  roots  of  a  tree  or 
beneath  the  foundations  of  a  tottering  house.  Primitive 
man  naturally  took  to  the  grosser  and  more  material  con- 
ception. He  figured  to  himself  the  thunderbolt  as  a  barbed 
arrowhead;  and  the  forked  zigzag  character  of  the  visible 
flash,  as  it  darts  rapidly  from  point  to  point,  seemed  almost 
inevitably  to  suggest  to  him  the  barbs,  as  one  sees  them 
represented  on  all  the  Greek  and  Roman  gems,  in  the  red 
right  hand  of  the  angry  Jupiter. 

The  thunderbolt  being  thus  an  accepted  fact,  it  followed 
naturally  that  whenever  any  dart-like  object  of  unknown 
origin  was  dug  up  out  of  the  ground,  it  was  at  once  set 
down  as  being  a  thunderbolt ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
frequent  occurrence  of  such  dart-like  objects,  precisely 
where  one  might  expect  to  find  them  in  accordance  with 
the  theory,  necessarily  strengthened  the  belief  itself.  So 
commonly  are  thunderbolts  piclied  up  to  the  present  day 
that  to  disbelieve  in  them  seems  to  many  country  people  a 
piece  of  ridiculous  and  stubborn  scepticism.  Why,  they've 
ploughed  up  dozens  of  them  themselves  in  their  time,  and 
just  about  the  very  place  where  the  thunderbolt  struck  the 
old  elm -tree  two  years  ago,  too. 


THUNDERBOLTS  143 

The  most  favourite  form  of  thunderbolt  is  the  polished 
stone  hatchet  or  *  celt '  of  the  newer  stone  age  men.  I 
have  never  heard  the  very  rude  chipped  and  unpolished 
axes  of  the  older  drift  men  or  cave  men  described  as 
thunderbolts :  they  are  too  rough  and  shapeless  ever  to 
attract  attention  from  any  except  professed  archreologists. 
Indeed,  the  wicked  have  been  known  to  scoff  at  them  freely 
as  mere  accidental  lumps  of  broken  flint,  and  to  deride  the 
notion  of  their  being  due  in  any  way  to  deliberate  human 
handicraft.  These  are  the  sort  of  people  who  would  regard 
a  grand  piano  as  a  fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms.  But  the 
shapely  stone  hatchet  of  the  later  neolithic  farmer  and 
herdsman  is  usually  a  beautifully  polished  wedge-shaped 
piece  of  solid  greenstone  ;  and  its  edge  has  been  ground  to 
such  a  delicate  smoothness  that  it  seems  rather  like  a  bit 
of  nature's  exquisite  workmanship  than  a  simple  relic  of 
prehistoric  man.  There  is  something  very  fascinating 
about  the  naif  belief  that  the  neolithic  axe  is  a  genuine 
unadulterated  thunderbolt.  You  dig  it  up  in  the  ground 
exactly  where  you  would  expect  a  thunderbolt  (if  there 
were  such  things)  to  be.  It  is  heavy,  smooth,  well  shaped, 
and  neatly  pointed  at  one  end.  If  it  could  really  descend 
in  a  red-hot  state  from  the  depths  of  the  sky,  launched 
forth  like  a  cannon-ball  by  some  fierce  discharge  of 
heavenly  artillery,  it  would  certainly  prove  a  very  formid- 
able weapon  indeed;  and  one  could  easily  imagine  it 
scoring  the  bark  of  some  aged  oak,  or  tearing  off  the  tiles 
from  a  projecting  turret,  exactly  as  the  lightning  is  so  well 
known  to  do  in  this  prosaic  workaday  world  of  ours.  In 
short,  there  is  really  nothing  on  earth  against  the  theory 
of  the  stone  axe  being  a  true  thunderbolt,  except  the  fact 
that  it  unfortunately  happens  to  be  a  neolithic  hatchet. 

But  the  course  of  reasoning  by  which  we  discover  the 
true  nature  of  the  stone  axe  is  not  one  that  would  in  any 


144  THUNDERBOLTS 

case  appeal  strongly  to  the  fancy  or  the  intelligence  of  the 
British  farmer.  It  is  no  use  telling  him  that  whenever 
one  opens  a  barrow  of  the  stone  age  one  is  pretty  sure  to 
find  a  neolithic  axe  and  a  few  broken  pieces  of  pottery 
beside  the  mouldering  skeleton  of  the  old  nameless  chief 
who  lies  there  buried.  The  British  farmer  will  doubtless 
stolidly  retort  that  thunderbolts  often  strike  the  tops  of 
hills,  which  are  just  the  places  where  barrows  and  tumuli 
(tumps,  he  calls  them)  most  do  congregate  ;  and  that  as  to 
the  skeleton,  isn't  it  just  as  likely  that  the  man  was  killed 
by  the  thunderbolt  as  that  the  thunderbolt  was  made  by  a 
man  ?    Ay,  and  a  sight  likelier,  too. 

All  the  world  over,  this  simple  and  easy  belief,  that  the 
buried  stone  axe  is  a  thunderbolt,  exists  among  Europeans 
and  savages  alike.  In  the  West  of  England,  the  labourers 
will  tell  you  that  the  thunder-axes  they  dig  up  fell  from 
the  sky.  In  Brittany,  says  Mr.  Tylor,  the  old  man  who 
mends  umbrellas  at  Carnac,  beside  the  mysterious  stone 
avenues  of  that  great  French  Stonehenge,  inquires  on  his 
rounds  for  pierres  de  tonnerre,  which  of  course  are  found 
with  suspicious  frequency  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood 
of  prehistoric  remains.  In  the  Chinese  Encyclopaedia  we 
are  told  that  the  '  lightning  stones  '  have  sometimes  the 
shape  of  a  hatchet,  sometimes  that  of  a  knife,  and  some- 
times that  of  a  mallet.  And  then,  by  a  curious  misappre- 
hension, the  sapient  author  of  that  work  goes  on  to  observe 
that  these  lightning  stones  are  used  by  the  wandering 
Mongols  instead  of  copper  and  steel.  It  never  seems  to 
have  struck  his  celestial  intelligence  that  the  Mongols 
made  the  lightning  stones  instead  of  diggmg  them  up  out 
of  the  earth.  So  deeply  had  the  idea  of  the  thunderbolt 
buried  itself  in  the  recesses  of  his  soul,  that  though  a 
neighbouring  people  were  still  actually  manufacturing 
stone  axes  almost  under  his  very  eyes,  he  reversed  mentally 


THUNDERBOLTS  145 

the  entire  process,  and  supposed  they  dug  up  the  thunder- 
bolts which  he  saw  them  using,  and  employed  them  as 
common  hatchets.  This  is  one  of  the  finest  instances  on 
record  of  the  popular  figure  which  grammarians  call  the 
hystcron  'protcron,  and  ordinary  folk  describe  as  putting  the 
cart  before  the  horse.  Just  so,  while  in  some  parts  of 
Brazil  the  Indians  are  still  laboriously  polishing  their 
stone  hatchets,  in  other  parts  the  planters  are  digging  up 
the  precisely  similar  stone  hatchets  of  earlier  generations, 
and  religiously  preserving  them  in  their  houses  as 
undoubted  thunderbolts.  I  have  myself  had  pressed  upon 
my  attention  as  genuine  lightning  stones,  in  the  AVest 
Indies,  the  exquisitely  polished  greenstone  tomahawks  of 
the  old  Carib  marauders.  But  then,  in  this  matter,  I  am 
pretty  much  in  the  position  of  that  philosophic  sceptic 
who,  when  he  was  asked  by  a  lady  whether  he  believed  in 
ghosts,  answered  wisely,  *  No,  madam,  I  have  seen  by  far 
too  many  of  them.' 

One  of  the  finest  accounts  ever  given  of  the  nature  of 
thunderbolts  is  that  mentioned  by  Adrianus  Tollius  in  his 
edition  of  '  Boethius  on  Gems.'  He  gives  illustrations  of 
some  neolithic  axes  and  hammers,  and  then  proceeds  to 
state  that  in  the  opinion  of  philosophers  they  are  generated 
in  the  sky  by  a  fulgureous  exhalation  (whatever  that  may 
look  like)  conglobed  in  a  cloud  by  a  circumfixed  humour, 
and  baked  hard,  as  it  were,  by  intense  heat.  The  weapon, 
it  seems,  then  becomes  pointed  by  the  damp  mixed  with 
it  flying  from  the  dry  part,  and  leaving  the  other  end 
denser  ;  while  the  exhalations  press  it  so  hard  that  it  breaks 
out  through  the  cloud,  and  makes  thunder  and  lightning. 
A  very  lucid  explanation  certainly,  but  rendered  a  little 
difficult  of  apprehension  by  the  eflbrt  necessary  for  realising 
in  a  mental  picture  the  conglobation  of  a  fulgureous  ex- 
halation by  a  circumfixed  humour. 


146  THUNDERBOLTS 

One  would  like  to  see  a  drawing  of  the  process,  though 
the  sketch  would  probably  much  resemble  the  picture  of  a 
muchness,  so  admirably  described  by  the  mock  turtle. 
The  excellent  Tollius  himself,  however,  while  demurring 
on  the  whole  to  this  hypothesis  of  the  philosophers,  bases 
his  objection  mainly  on  the  ground  that,  if  this  were  so, 
then  it  is  odd  the  thunderbolts  are  not  round,  but  wedge- 
pliaped,  and  that  they  have  holes  in  them,  and  those  holes 
not  equal  throughout,  but  widest  at  the  ends.  As  a  inatter 
of  fact,  Tollius  has  here  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head 
quite  accidentally ;  for  the  holes  are  really  there,  of  course, 
to  receive  the  haft  of  the  axe  or  hammer.  But  if  they 
were  truly  thunderbolts,  and  if  the  bolts  were  shafted,  then 
the  holes  would  have  been  lengthwise,  as  in  an  arrowhead, 
not  crosswise,  as  in  an  axe  or  hammer.  Which  is  a  com- 
plete reductio  ad  ahsurdum  of  the  philosophic  opinion. 

Some  of  the  cerauniie,  says  Pliny,  are  like  hatchets. 
He  would  have  been  nearer  the  mark  if  he  had  said  *  are 
hatchets  '  outright.  But  this  aycrqu,  which  was  to  Pliny 
merely  a  stray  suggestion,  became  to  the  northern  peoples 
a  firm  article  of  belief,  and  caused  them  to  represent  to 
themselves  their  god  Thor  or  Thunor  as  armed,  not  with 
a  bolt,  but  with  an  axe  or  hammer.  Etymologically  Thor, 
Thunor,  and  thunder  are  the  self- same  word ;  but  while 
the  southern  races  looked  upon  Zeus  or  Indra  as  wielding 
his  forked  darts  in  his  red  right  hand,  the  northern  races 
looked  upon  the  Thunder-god  as  hurling  down  an  angry 
hammer  from  his  seat  in  the  clouds.  There  can  be  but 
little  doubt  that  the  very  notion  of  Thor's  hammer  itself 
was  derived  from  the  shape  of  the  supposed  thunderbolt, 
which  the  Scandinavians  and  Teutons  rightly  saw  at  once 
to  be  an  axe  or  mallet,  not  an  arrow-head.  The  'fiery 
axe '  of  Thunor  is  a  common  metaphor  in  Anglo-Saxon 
poetry.     Thus,  Thor's  hammer  is  itself  merely  the  picture 


THUNDERBOLTS  147 

which  our  northern  ancestors  formed  to  themselves,  by 
compounding  the  idea  of  thunder  and  hghtniug  with  the 
idea  of  the  pohshed  stone  hatchets  they  dug  up  among 
the  fields  and  meadows.  • 

Fhnt  arrowheads  of  the  stone  age  are  less  often  taken 
for  thunderbolts,  no  doubt  because  they  are  so  much 
smaller  that  they  look  quite  too  insignificant  for  the 
weapons  of  an  angry  god.  They  are  more  frequently 
described  as  fairy-darts  or  fairy-bolts.  Still,  I  have  known 
even  arrow-heads  regarded  as  thunderbolts,  and  preserved 
superstitiously  under  that  belief.  In  Finland,  stone  arrows 
are  universally  so  viewed ;  and  the  rainbow  is  looked  upon 
as  the  bow  of  Tiermes,  the  thunder-god,  who  shoots  with 
it  the  guilty  sorcerers. 

But  why  should  thunderbolts,  whether  stone  axes  or 
flint  arrowheads,  be  preserved,  not  merely  as  curiosities, 
but  from  motives  of  superstition  ?  The  reason  is  a  simple 
one.  Everybody  knows  that  in  all  magical  ceremonies  it 
is  necessary  to  have  something  belonging  to  the  person 
you  wish  to  conjure  against,  in  order  to  make  your  spells 
effectual.  A  bone,  be  it  but  a  joint  of  the  little  finger,  is 
sufficient  to  raise  the  ghost  to  which  it  once  belonged; 
cuttings  of  hair  or  clippings  of  nails  are  enough  to  put 
their  owner  magically  in  your  power ;  and  that  is  the 
reason  why,  if  you  are  a  prudent  person,  you  will  always 
burn  all  such  off- castings  of  your  body,  lest  haply  an  enemy 
should  get  hold  of  them,  and  cast  the  evil  eye  upon  you 
with  their  potent  aid.  In  the  same  way,  if  you  can  lay 
hands  upon  anything  that  once  belonged  to  an  elf,  such  as 
a  fairy-bolt  or  flint  arrowhead,  you  can  get  its  former 
possessor  to  do  anything  you  wish  by  simply  rubbing  it 
and  calling  upon  him  to  appear.  This  is  the  secret  of  half 
the  charms  and  amulets  in  existence,  most  of  which  are 
either  real  old  arrowheads,  or  carnelians  cut  in  the  same 


148  THUNDERBOLTS 

shape,  which  has  now  mostly  degenerated  from  tlie  barb 
to  the  conventional  heart,  and  been  mistakenly  associated 
with  the  idea  of  love.  This  is  the  secret,  too,  of  all  the 
rings,  lamps,  gems,  and  boxes,  possession  of  which  gives 
a  man  power  over  fairies,  spirits,  gnomes,  and  genii.  All 
magic  proceeds  upon  the  prime  belief  that  you  must 
possess  something  belonging  to  the  person  you  wish  to 
control,  constrain,  or  injure.  And,  failing  anytlhng  else, 
you  must  at  least  have  a  wax  image  of  him,  which  you 
call  by  his  name,  and  use  as  his  substitute  in  your  incanta- 
tions. 

On  this  primitive  principle,  possession  of  a  thunderbolt 
gives  you  some  sort  of  hold,  as  it  were,  over  the  thunder- 
god  himself  in  person.  If  you  keep  a  thunderbolt  in  your 
house  it  will  never  be  struck  by  lightning.  In  Shetland, 
stone  axes  are  religiously  preserved  in  every  cottage  as  a 
cheap  and  simple  substitute  for  lightning-rods.  In  Corn- 
wall, the  stone  hatchets  and  arrowheads  not  only  guard 
the  house  from  thunder,  but  also  act  as  magical  barometers, 
changing  colour  with  the  changes  of  the  weather,  as  if 
in  sympathy  with  the  temper  of  the  thunder-god.  In 
Germany,  the  house  where  a  thunderbolt  is  kept  is  safe 
from  the  storm  ;  and  the  bolt  itself  begins  to  sweat  on  the 
approach  of  lightning-clouds.  Nay,  so  potent  is  the  pro- 
tection afforded  by  a  thunderbolt  that  where  the  lightning 
has  once  struck  it  never  strikes  again ;  the  bolt  already 
buried  in  the  soil  seems  to  preserve  the  surrounding  place 
from  the  anger  of  the  deity.  Old  and  pagan  in  their 
nature  as  are  these  beliefs,  they  yet  survive  so  thoroughly 
into  Christian  times  that  I  have  seen  a  stone  hatchet  built 
into  the  steeple  of  a  church  to  protect  it  from  lightning. 
Indeed,  steeples  have  always  of  course  attracted  the 
electric  discharge  to  a  singular  degree  by  their  height  and 
tapering  form,  especially  before  the  introduction  of  light- 


THUNDERBOLTS  149 

ning-rods ;  and  it  was  a  sore  trial  of  faith  to  mcdifcval 
reasoners  to  understand  why  heaven  should  hurl  its  angry 
darts  so  often  against  the  towers  of  its  very  own  churches. 
In  the  Abruzzi  the  flint  axe  has  actually  been  Christianised 
into  St.  Paul's  arrows — saetti  de  San  Paolo.  Families 
hand  down  the  miraculous  stones  from  father  to  son  as  a 
precious  legacy  ;  and  mothers  hang  them  on  their  chil- 
dren's necks  side  by  side  with  medals  of  saints  and 
madonnas,  which  themselves  are  hardly  so  highly  prized 
as  the  stones  that  fall  from  heaven. 

Another  and  very  different  form  of  thunderbolt  is  the 
belemnite,  a  common  English  fossil  often  preserved  in 
houses  in  the  west  country  with  the  same  superstitious 
reverence  as  the  neolithic  hatchets.  The  very  form  of  the 
belemnite  at  once  suggests  the  notion  of  a  dart  or  lance- 
head,  which  has  gained  for  it  its  scientific  name.  At  the 
present  day,  when  all  our  girls  go  to  Girton  and  enter  for 
the  classical  tripos,  I  need  hardly  translate  the  word 
belemnitti  *  for  the  benefit  of  the  ladies,'  as  people  used  to 
do  in  the  dark  and  unemancipated  eighteenth  century  ; 
but  as  our  boys  liave  left  off  learning  Greek  just  as  their 
sisters  are  beginning  to  act  the  '  Antigone '  at  private 
theatricals,  I  may  perhaps  be  pardoned  if  I  explain,  '  for 
the  benefit  of  the  gentlenen,'  that  the  word  is  practically 
equivalent  to  javelin-fossil.  The  belemnites  are  the  in- 
ternal shells  of  a  sort  of  cuttle-fish  which  swam  about  in 
enormous  numbers  in  the  seas  whose  sediment  forms  our 
modern  lias,  oolite,  and  gault.  A  great  many  different 
species  are  known  and  have  acquired  charming  names  in 
very  doubtful  Attic  at  the  hands  of  profoundly  learned 
geological  investigators,  but  almost  all  are  equally  good 
representatives  of  the  mythical  thunderbolt.  The  finest 
specimens  are  long,  thick,  cylindrical,  and  gradually  taper- 
ing, with  a  hole  at  one  end  as  if  on  purpose  to  receive  the 


]  60  THUNDERBOLTS 

shaft.  Sometimes  they  have  petrified  into  iron  pyrites  or 
copper  compounds,  shining  hke  gold,  and  then  they  make 
very  noble  tlmnderbolts  indeed,  heavy  as  lead,  and  capable 
of  doing  profound  mischief  if  properly  directed.  At  other 
times  they  have  crystallised  in  transparent  spar,  and  then 
they  form  very  beautiful  objects,  as  smooth  and  polished 
as  the  best  lapidary  could  i)ossibly  make  them.  Belenniites 
are  generally  found  in  immense  numbers  together,  especially 
in  the  marlstone  quarries  of  the  Midlands,  and  in  the  lias 
cliffs  of  Dorsetshire.  Yet  the  quarrymen  who  find  them 
never  seem  to  have  their  fiiitli  shaken  in  the  least  by  the 
enormous  quantities  of  thunderbolts  that  would  appear  to 
have  struck  a  single  spot  with  such  extraordinary  frequency. 
This  little  fact  also  tells  rather  hardly  against  the  theory 
that  the  lightning  never  falls  twice  upon  the  same  place. 

Only  the  largest  and  heaviest  belemnites  are  known  as 
thunder  stones ;  the  smaller  ones  are  more  commonly 
described  as  agate  pencils.  In  Shakespeare's  country 
their  connection  with  thunder  is  well  known,  so  that  in  all 
probability  a  belemnite  is  the  original  of  the  beautiful  lines 
in  •  Cymbeline  ': — 

Fear  no  more  the  lightning  flash. 
Nor  the  all-dreaded  thunder  stone, 

where  the  distinction  between  the  lightning  and  the  thun- 
derbolt is  particularly  well  indicated.  In  every  part  of 
Europe  belemnites  and  stone  hatchets  are  alike  regarded 
as  thunderbolts ;  so  that  we  have  the  curious  result  that 
people  confuse  under  a  single  name  a  natural  fossil  of 
immense  antiquity  and  a  human  product  of  comparatively 
recent  but  still  prehistoric  date.  Indeed,  I  have  had  two 
thunderbolts  shown  me  at  once,  one  of  which  was  a  large 
belemnite,  and  the  other  a  modern  Indian  tomahawk. 
Curiously  enough,  English  sailors  still   call   the  nearest 


THUNDERBOLTS  151 

Burvivinp;  relatives  of  the  belciniiitea,  the  squids  or  cala- 
maries  of  the  Atlantic,  by  the  ai)pi'opriato  name  of  sea- 
arrows. 

Many  other  natural  or  artificial  objects  have  added 
their  tittle  to  the  belief  in  thunderbolts.  In  the  Hima- 
layas, for  example,  where  awful  thunderstorms  are  always 
occurrin^^  as  common  objects  of  the  country,  the  torrents 
which  follow  them  tear  out  of  the  loose  soil  fossil  bones 
and  tusks  and  teeth,  which  are  universally  looked  upon  as 
lightning-stones.  The  nodules  of  pyrites,  often  picked  up 
on  beaches,  with  their  false  appearance  of  having  been 
melted  by  intense  heat,  pass  muster  easily  with  children 
and  sailor  folk  for  the  genuine  thunderbolts.  But  the 
grand  upholder  of  the  belief,  the  one  true  undeniable 
reality  which  has  kept  alive  the  thunderbolt  even  in  a 
wicked  and  sceptical  age,  is,  beyond  all  question,  the 
occasional  falling  of  meteoric  stones.  Your  meteor  is  an 
incontrovertible  fact ;  there  is  no  getting  over  him  ;  in  the 
British  Museum  itself  you  will  find  him  duly  classitied 
and  labelled  and  catalogued.  Here,  surely,  we  have  the 
ultimate  substratum  of  the  thunderbolt  myth.  To  bo 
sure,  meteors  have  no  kind  of  natural  connection  with 
thunderstorms  ;  they  may  fall  anywhere  and  at  any  time  ; 
but  to  object  thus  is  to  be  hypercritical.  A  stone  that  falls 
from  heaven,  no  matter  how  or  when,  is  quite  good  enough 
to  be  considered  as  a  thunderbolt. 

Meteors,  indeed,  might  very  easily  be  confounded  with 
lightning,  especially  by  people  who  already  have  the  full- 
blown conception  of  a  thunderbolt  floating  about  vaguely 
in  their  brains.  The  meteor  leaps  upon  the  earth  suddenly 
with  a  rushing  noise  ;  it  is  usually  red-hot  when  it  falls,  by 
friction  against  the  air ;  it  is  mostly  composed  of  native 
iron  and  other  heavy  metallic  bodies  ;  and  it  does  its  best 
to  bury  itself  in  the  ground  in  the  most  orthodox  and 


152  THUNDERBOLTS 

respectable  manner.  The  man  who  sees  this  parlous 
monster  come  whizzing  through  the  clouds  from  planetary 
space,  making  a  fiery  track  like  a  great  dragon  as  it  moves 
rapidly  across  the  sky,  and  finally  ploughing  its  way  into 
the  earth  in  his  own  back  garden,  may  well  be  excused  for 
regarding  it  as  a  fine  specimen  of  the  true  antique  thunder- 
bolt. The  same  virtues  which  belong  to  the  buried  stone 
are  in  some  other  places  claimed  for  meteoric  iron,  small 
pieces  of  which  are  worn  as  charms,  specially  useful  in 
protecting  the  wearer  against  thunder,  lightning,  and 
evil  incantations.  In  many  cases  miraculous  images  have 
been  hewn  out  of  the  stones  that  have  fallen  from  heaven  ; 
and  in  others  the  meteorite  itself  is  carefully  preserved  or 
worshipped  as  the  actual  representative  of  god  or  goddess, 
saint  or  madoima.  The  image  that  fell  down  from  Jupiter 
may  itself  have  been  a  mass  of  meteoric  iron. 

Both  meteorites  and  stone  hatchets,  as  well  as  all  other 
forms  of  thunderbolt,  are  in  excellent  repute  as  amulets, 
not  only  against  lightning,  but  against  the  evil  eye  gene- 
rally. In  Italy  they  protect  the  owner  from  thunder, 
epidemics,  and  cattle  disease,  the  last  two  of  which  are 
well  known  to  be  caused  by  witchcraft ;  while  Prospero  in 
the  *  Tempest '  is  a  surviving  proof  how  thunderstorms 
too,  can  be  magically  produced.  The  tongues  of  sheep- 
bells  ought  to  be  made  of  meteoric  iron  or  of  elf-bolts,  in 
order  to  insure  the  animals  against  foot-and-mouth  disease 
or  death  by  storm.  Built  into  walls  or  placed  on  the 
threshold  of  stables,  thunderbolts  are  capital  preventives 
of  fire  or  other  damage,  though  not  perhaps  in  this  respect 
quite  equal  to  a  rusty  horseshoe  from  a  •  prehistoric  battle- 
field. Thrown  into  a  well  they  purify  the  water ;  and 
boiled  in  the  drink  of  diseased  sheep  they  render  a  cure 
positively  certain.  In  Cornwall  thunderbolts  are  a  sove- 
reign remedy  for  rheumatism  ;  and  in  the  popular  pharma- 


THUNDERBOLTS  153 

copoDia  of  Ireland  they  have  been  employed  with  success 
for  ophthalmia,  pleurisy,  and  many  other  painful  diseases. 
If  finely  powdered  and  swallowed  piecemeal,  they  render 
the  person  who  swallows  them  invulnerable  for  the  rest  of 
liis  lifetime.  But  they  cannot  conscientiously  be  recom- 
mended for  dyspepsia  and  other  forms  of  indi^'cstion. 

As  if  on  purpose  to  confuse  our  already  very  vague  ideas 
about  thunderbolts,  there  is  one  special  kind  of  lightning 
which  really  seems  intentionally  to  simulate  a  meteorite, 
and  that  is  the  kind  known  as  fireballs  or  (more  scientifi- 
cally) globular  lightning.  A  fireball  generally  appears  as 
a  sphere  of  light,  sometimes  oidy  as  big  as  a  Dutch  cheese, 
sometimes  as  large  as  three  feet  in  diameter.  It  moves 
along  very  slowly  and  demurely  through  the  air,  remaining 
visible  for  a  whole  minute  or  two  together  ;  and  in  the  end  it 
generally  bursts  up  with  great  violence,  as  if  it  were  a 
London  railway  station  being  experimented  upon  by  Irish 
patriots.  At  Milan  one  day  a  fireball  of  this  description 
walked  down  one  of  tlie  streets  so  slowly  that  a  small 
crowd  walked  after  it  admiringly,  to  see  where  it  was  going. 
It  made  straight  for  a  church  steeple,  after  the  common  but 
sacrilegious  fashion  of  all  lightning,  struck  the  gilded  cross 
on  the  topmost  pinnacle,  and  then  immediately  vanished, 
like  a  Virgilian  apparition,  into  thin  air. 

A  few  years  ago,  too.  Dr.  Tripe  was  watching  a  very 
severe  thunderstorm,  when  he  saw  a  fire-ball  come  quietly 
gliding  up  to  him,  apparently  rising  from  the  earth  rather 
than  falling  towards  it.  Instead  of  running  away,  like  a 
practical  man,  the  intrepid  doctor  held  his  ground  quietly 
and  observed  the  fiery  monster  with  scientific  nonchalance. 
After  continuing  its  course  for  some  time  in  a  peaceful  and 
regular  fashion,  however,  without  attempting  to  assault 
him,  it  finally  darted  off  at  a  tangent  in  another  direction, 
and  turned  apparently  into  forked  lightning.      A  fire-ball. 


154  THUNDERBOLTS 

noticed  among  the  Glendowan  Mountains  in  Donegal, 
behaved  even  more  eccentrically,  as  might  be  expected 
from  its  Irish  antecedents.  It  first  siiirtod  the  earth  in  a 
leisurely  way  for  several  hundred  yards  like  a  cannon-ball ; 
then  it  struck  the  ground,  ricocliotted,  and  once  more 
bounded  along  for  another  short  spell ;  after  which  it  dis- 
appeared in  the  boggy  soil,  as  if  it  were  completely  finished 
and  done  for.  But  in  another  moment  it  rose  again, 
nothing  daunted,  with  Celtic  irrepressibility,  several  yards 
away,  pursued  its  ghostly  course  across  a  running  stream 
(which  shows,  at  least,  there  could  have  been  no  witchcraft 
in  it),  and  finally  ran  to  earth  for  good  in  the  opposite  bank, 
leaving  a  round  hole  in  the  sloping  peat  at  the  spot  where 
it  buried  itself.  Where  it  first  struck,  it  cut  up  the  peat  as 
if  with  a  knife,  and  made  a  broad  deep  trench  which  re- 
mained afterwards  as  a  witness  of  its  eccentric  conduct. 
If  the  person  who  observed  it  had  been  of  a  superstitious 
turn  of  mind  we  sliould  have  had  here  one  of  the  finest 
and  most  terrifying  ghost  stories  on  -the  entire  record, 
which  would  have  made  an  exceptionally  splendid  show  in 
the  '  Transactioiis  of  the  Society  for  Psychical  Kesearch.' 
Unfortunately,  however,  he  was  only  a  man  of  science,  un- 
gifted  with  the  precious  dower  of  poetical  imagination  ;  so 
he  stupidly  called  it  a  remarkable  fire-ball,  measured  the 
ground  carefully  like  a  common  engineer,  and  sent  an 
account  of  the  phenomenon  to  that  far  more  prosaic  perio- 
dical, the  '  Quarterly  Journal  of  the  Meteorological  Society.' 
Another  splendid  apparition  thrown  away  recklessly,  for 
ever  ! 

There  is  a  curious  form  of  electrical  discharge,  some- 
what similar  to  the  fire-ball  but  on  a  smaller  scale,  which 
may  be  regarded  as  the  exact  opposite  of  the  thunderbolt, 
inasmuch  as  it  is  always  quite  harmless.  This  is  St.  Elmo's 
fire,  a  brush  of  lambent  light,  which  plays  around  the 


THUNDERBOLTS  155 

masts  of  ships  and  the  tops  of  trees,  when  clouds  are  low 
and  tension  great.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  equivalent  in  nature 
of  tlie  brush  discharfj^e  from  an  electric  machine.  The 
Greeks  and  Romans  looked  upon  this  lambent  display  as  a 
sign  of  the  presence  of  Castor  and  Pollux, '  fratres  Helenas 
lucida  sidera,'  and  held  that  its  appearance  was  an  omen  of 
safety,  as  everybody  who  has  read  the  '  Lays  of  Ancient 
Rome '  must  surely  remember.  The  modern  name,  St. 
Elmo's  lire,  is  itself  a  curiously  twisted  and  perversely 
Christianised  reminiscence  of  the  great  twin  brethren  ;  for 
St.  Elmo  is  merely  a  corruption  of  Helena,  made  mascu- 
line and  canonised  by  the  grateful  sailors.  It  was  as 
Helen's  brothers  that  they  best  knew  the  Dioscuri  in  the 
good  old  days  of  the  upper  empire  ;  and  when  the  new 
religion  forbade  them  any  longer  to  worship  those  vain 
heathen  deities,  they  managed  to  hand  over  the  Hames  at 
the  masthead  to  an  imaginary  St.  Elmo,  whose  protection 
stood  them  in  just  as  good  stead  as  that  of  the  original 
alternate  immortals. 

Finally,  the  effects  of  lightning  itself  are  sometimes 
such  as  to  produce  upon  the  mind  of  an  impartial  but  un- 
scientific beholder  the  firm  idea  that  a  bodily  thunderbolt 
must  necessarily  have  descended  from  heaven.  In  sand  or 
rock  where  lightning  has  struck,  it  often  forms  long  hol- 
low tubes,  known  to  the  calmly  discriminating  geological 
intelligence  as  fulgurites,  and  looking  for  all  the  world  hke 
gigantic  drills  such  as  quarrymen  make  for  putting  in  a 
blast.  They  are  produced,  of  course,  by  the  melting  of 
the  rock  under  the  terrific  heat  of  the  electric  spark  ;  and 
they  grow  narrower  and  narrower  -as  they  descend  till  they 
finally  disappear.  But  to  a  casual  observer,  they  irresistibly 
suggest  the  notion  that  a  material  weapon  has  struck  the 
ground,  and  buried  itself  at  the  bottom  of  the  hole.  The  sum- 
mit of  Little  Ararat,  that  weather-beaten  and  many-fabled 
11 


156  THUNDERBOLTS 

peak  (■w'licre  an  enterprising  journalist  not  long  ago  dis- 
covered the  remains  of  Noah's  Ark),  has  been  riddled 
through  and  through  by  frequent  lightnings,  till  the  rock 
is  now  a  mere  honeycombed  mass  of  drills  and  tubes,  like 
an  old  target  at  the  end  of  a  long  day's  constant  rifle 
practice.  Pieces  of  the  red  trachyte  from  the  summit,  a 
foot  long,  have  been  brought  to  Europe,  perforated  all  over 
with  these  natural  bullet  marks,  each  of  them  lined  with 
black  glass,  due  to  the  fusion  of  the  rock  by  the  passage  of 
the  spark.  Specimens  of  such  thunder-drilled  rock  may 
be  seen  in  most  geological  museums.  On  some  which 
Humboldt  collected  from  a  peak  in  Mexico,  the  fused  slag 
from  the  wall  of  the  tube  has  overflowed  on  to  the  sur- 
rounding surface,  thus  conclusively  proving  (if  proof  were 
necessary)  that  the  holes  are  due  to  melting  heat  alone, 
and  not  to  the  passage  of  any  solid  thunderbolt. 

But  it  was  the  introduction  and  general  employment  of 
lightning-rods  that  dealt  a  final  deathblow  to  the  thunder- 
bolt theory.  A  lightning-conductor  consists  essentially  of  a 
long  piece  of  metal,  pointed  at  the  end  whose  business  it 
is,  not  so  much  (as  most  people  imagine)  to  carry  off  the 
flash  of  lightning  harmlessly,  should  it  happen  to  strike  the 
house  to  which  the  conductor  is  attached,  but  rather  to  pre- 
vent the  occurrence  of  a  flash  at  all,  by  gradually  and 
gently  drawing  off  the  electricity  as  fast  as  it  gathers  before 
it  has  had  time  to  collect  in  suflicient  force  for  a  destructive 
discharge.  It  resembles  in  eft'ect  an  overflow  pipe  which 
drains  off'  the  surplus  water  of  a  pond  as  soon  as  it  runs 
in,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  an 
inundation,  which  might  occur  if  the  water  were  allowed 
to  collect  in  force  behind  a  dam  or  embankment.  It  is  a 
flood-gate,  not  a  moat :  it  carries  away  the  electricity  of  the 
air  quietly  to  the  ground,  without  allowing  it  to  gather  in 
Bufficient  amount  to  produce  a  flash  of  lightning.    It  mighc 


THUNDERBOLTS  157 

thus  be  better  called  a  lightning-preventer  than  a  lightning- 
conductor  :  it  conducts  electricity,  but  it  prevents  lightning. 
At  first,  all  lightning-rods  used  to  be  made  with  knobs  on 
the  top,  and  then  the  electricity  used  to  collect  at  the 
surface  until  the  electric  force  was  sufficient  to  cause  a  spark. 
In  those  happy  days,  you  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  that 
the  lightning  was  actually  being  drawn  off  from  your 
neighbourhood  piecemeal.  Knobs,  it  was  held,  must  be 
the  best  things,  because  you  could  incontestably  see  the 
sparks  striking  them  with  your  own  eyes.  But  as  time 
went  on,  electricians  discovered  that  if  you  fixed  a  fine 
metal  point  to  the  conductor  of  an  electric  machine  it  was 
impossible  to  get  up  any  appreciable  charge  because  the 
electricity  kept  always  leaking  out  by  means  of  the  point. 
Then  it  was  seen  that  if  you  made  your  lightning-rods 
pointed  at  the  end,  you  would  be  able  in  the  same  way 
to  dissipate  your  electricity  before  it  ever  had  time  to  come 
to  a  head  in  the  shape  of  lightning.  From  that  moment 
the  thunderbolt  was  safely  dead  and  buried.  It  was 
urged,  indeed,  that  the  attempt  thus  to  rob  Heaven  of  its 
thunders  was  wicked  and  impious  ;  but  the  common- sense 
of  mankind  refused  to  believe  that  absolute  omnipotence 
could  be  sensibly  defied  by  twenty  yards  of  cylindrical  iron 
tubing.  Thenceforth  the  thunderbolt  ceased  to  exist,  save 
in  poetry,  country  houses,  and  the  most  rural  circles  ;  even 
the  electric  fluid  was  generally  relegated  to  the  provincial 
press,  where  it  still  keeps  company  harmoniously  with 
caloric,  the  devouring  element,  nature's  abhorrence  of  a 
vacuum,  and  many  other  like  philosophical  fossils  :  while 
lightning  itself,  shorn  of  its  former  glories,  could  no  longer 
wage  impious  war  against  cathedral  towers,  but  was  com- 
pelled to  restrict  itself  to  blasting  a  solitary  rider  now 
and  again  in  the  open  fields,  or  drilling  more  holes  in  the 
already  crumbling  summit  of  !Mount  Ararat.     Yet  it  will 


J  58  THUNDERBOLTS 

be  a  thousand  years  more,  in  all  probability,  before  the  last 
thunderbolt  ceases  to  be  shown  as  a  curiosity  here  and 
there  to  marvelling  visitors,  and  takes  its  proper  place  in 
some  village  museum  as  a  belemnite,  a  meteoric  stone,  or 
a  polished  axe-head  of  our  neolithic  ancestors.  Even  then, 
no  doubt,  the  original  bolt  will  still  survive  as  a  recognised 
property  in  the  stock-in-trade  of  every  well-equipped  poet. 


HONEY-DEW  159 


HONEY-DEW 

Place,  the  garden.  Time,  summer.  Dramatis  personre, 
a  couple  of  small  brown  garden-ants,  and  a  lazy  clustering 
colony  of  wee  green  '  plant-lice,'  or  '  blight,'  or  aphides. 
The  exact  scene  is  usually  on  the  young  and  succulent 
branches  of  a  luxuriant  rose-bush,  into  whose  soft  shoots 
the  aphides  have  deeply  buried  their  long  trunk-like  snouts, 
in  search  of  the  sap  off  which  they  hve  so  contentedly 
through  their  brief  lifetime.  To  them,  enter  the  two 
small  brown  ants,  their  lawful  possessors ;  for  ants,  too, 
though  absolutely  unrecognised  by  English  law  ('  de 
minimis  non  curat  lex,'  says  the  legal  aphorism),  are 
nevertheless  in  their  own  commonwealth  duly  seised  of 
many  and  various  goods  and  chattels ;  and  these  same 
aphides,  as  everybody  has  heard,  stand  to  them  in  pretty 
much  the  same  position  as  cows  stand  to  human  herdsmen. 
Throw  in  for  sole  spectator  a  loitering  naturalist,  and  you 
get  the  entire  mise-cn-sctne  of  a  quaint  little  drama  that 
works  itself  out  a  dozen  times  among  the  wilted  rose-trees 
beneath  the  latticed  cottage  windows  every  summer 
morning. 

It  is  a  delightful  sight  to  watch  the  two  httle  lilliputian 
proprietors  approaching  and  milking  these  their  wee  green 
motionless  cattle.  First  of  all,  the  ants  quickly  scent  their 
way  with  protruded  antenncB  (for  they  are  as  good  as  blind, 
poor  things  !)  up  the  prickly  stem  of  the  rose-bush,  guided. 


160  HONEY-DEW 

no  doubt,  by  the  faint  porfumc  exhaled  from  tho  nectar 
iil)ove  thein.  Siiiellhif^  their  road  cautiously  to  tho  ends 
of  the  branches,  they  soon  reach  their  own  particular 
aphides,  whose  bodit  s  they  proceed  gently  to  stroke  with 
their  outstretched  feelers,  and  then  stand  by  quietly  for  a 
moment  in  happy  anticipation  of  the  coming  dinner. 
Presently,  the  obedient  aphis,  conscious  of  its  lawful 
master's  friendly  presence,  begins  slowly  to  emit  from  two 
long  horn-like  tubes  near  tho  centre  of  its  back  a  couple  of 
limpid  drops  of  a  sticky  pale  yellow  fluid.  Iloney-dewour 
English  rustics  still  call  it,  because,  when  tlio  aphides 
are  not  milked  often  enough  by  ants,  they  discharge  it 
awkwardly  of  their  own  accord,  and  then  it  falls  as  a  sweet 
clammy  dew  upon  tho  grass  beneath  them.  Tho  ant, 
approaching  the  two  tubes  with  cautious  tenderness, 
removes  the  sweet  drops  without  injuring  in  any  way  his 
little  protdgd,  and  then  passes  on  to  the  next  in  order  of 
his  tiny  cattle,  leaving  the  aphis  apparently  as  much 
relieved  by  the  process  as  a  cow  with  a  full  hanging  udd(;r 
is  relieved  by  the  timely  attention  of  the  human  milkmaid. 
Evidently,  this  is  a  case  of  mutual  accommodation  in  the 
political  economy  of  the  ants  and  aphides  :  a  free  inter- 
change of  services  between  the  ant  as  consumer  and  the 
aphis  as  producer.  Why  the  aphides  should  have  acquired 
the  curious  necessity  for  getting  rid  of  this  sweet,  sticky, 
and  nutritious  secretion  nobody  knows  with  certainty  ;  but 
it  is  at  least  quite  clear  that  the  liquid  is  a  considerable 
nuisance  to  them  in  their  very  sedentary  and  monotonous 
existence — a  waste  product  of  which  they  are  anxious  to 
disembarrass  themselves  as  easily  as  possible — and  that 
while  they  themselves  stand  to  the  ants  in  the  relation  of 
purveyors  of  food  supply,  the  ants  in  return  stand  to  them 
in  the  relation  of  scavengers,  or  contractors  for  the  removal 
of  useless  accumulations. 


nONEY-DEW  IGl 

Everybody  Icnows  tho  aphides  well  by  aipflit,  in  ono  of 
their  forma  at  least,  tho  famihar  rose  aphis  ;  l)iit  pr()l)ahly 
few  people  ever  look  at  tliem  closely  and  critically  enough 
to  observe  how  very  beautiful  and  wonderful  is  the  or<,'!inisa- 
tion  of  tlieir  tiny  limbs  in  all  its  extiuisito  detail.  If  you 
pick  off  ono  good-si/ed  win.tjflcss  insect,  however,  from  a 
bli<,dited  rose-leaf,  and  put  him  on  a  ^dass  shde  under  alow 
power  of  tho  microscope,  you  will  mosf  likely  be  quite  sur- 
prised to  find  what  a  lovely  little  creature  it  is  tiiat  you 
have  been  poisoning  wholesale  all  your  life;  long  with 
diluted  tobacco-juice.  His  body  is  so  transparent  that  you 
can  see  through  it  by  transmitted  light :  a  dainty  ghiss 
globe,  you  would  say,  of  emerald  green,  set  upon  six 
tapering,  jointed,  hairy  legs,  and  provided  in  front  with 
two  large  black  eyes  of  many  facets,  and  a  pair  of  long 
and  very  flexible  antenna^,  easily  moved  in  any  direction, 
but  usually  bent  backward  when  the  creature  is  at  rest  so 
as  to  reach  nearly  to  his  tail  as  ho  stands  at  ease;  upon  liis 
native  rose-leaf.  There  are,  however,  two  other  features 
about  him  which  s])ecially  attract  attention,  as  being  very 
characteristic  of  tho  aphides  and  their  allies  among  all 
other  insects.  In  the  first  place,  his  mouth  is  provided 
with  a  very  long  snout  or  proboscis,  classically  described  as 
a  rostrum,  with  which  ho  pierces  the  outer  skin  of  the  rose- 
shoot  where  he  lives,  and  sucks  up  incessantly  its  sweet 
juices.  This  organ  is  connnon  to  the  aphis  with  all  the 
other  bugs  and  plant-lice.  In  the  second  place,  ho  has 
half-way  down  his  back  (or  a  little  more)  a  pair  of  very 
peculiar  hollow  organs,  the  honey  tubes,  from  which  exudes 
that  singular  secretion,  the  honey-dew.  These  tubes  are 
not  found  in  quite  all  species  of  aphides,  but  they  are  very 
common  among  the  class,  and  they  form  by  far  the  mosl; 
conspicuous  and  interesting  organs  in  all  those  aphides 
which  do  possess  them. 


162  HONEY-DEW 

The  lifc-liisfcory  of  tho  rose-aphis,  small  and  familiar 
a  is  the  insect  itself,  forms  one  of  the  most  marvellous 
and  exti-aonlinary  chapters  in  all  the  fairy  tales  of  modern 
science.  Nobody  need  wonder  why  the  blight  attacks  his 
roses  so  persistently  when  once  he  has  learnt  the  unusual 
provision  for  exceptional  fertility  in  the  reproduction  of 
these  insect  plagues.  The  whole  story  is  too  long  to  give 
at  full  length,  but  here  is  a  brief  recapitulation  of  a  year's 
generations  of  common  aphides. 

In  the  spring,  the  eggs  of  last  year's  crop,  which  have 
been  laid  by  the  mothers  in  nooks  and  crannies  out  of  reach 
of  the  frost,  are  quickened  into  life  by  the  first  return  of 
warm  weather,  and  hatch  out  their  brood  of  ins(!cts.  All 
this  brood  consists  of  imperfect  females,  without  a  single 
male  among  them ;  and  they  all  fasten  at  once  upon  the  young 
buds  of  their  native  bush,  where  they  pass  a  sluggish  and 
uneventful  existence  in  suckihg  up  the  juice  from  the  veins 
on  the  one  hand,  and  secreting  honey-dew  upon  the  other. 
Four  times  they  moult  their  skins,  these  moults  being  in 
some  respects  analogous  to  the  metamorphosis  of  the  cater- 
pillar into  chrysalis  and  butterfly.  After  the  fourth  moult, 
the  young  aphides  attain  maturity ;  and  then  they  give 
origin,  parthenogenetically,  to  a  second  brood,  also  of  im- 
perfect females,  all  produced  without  any  fathers.  This 
second  brood  brings  forth  in  like  manner  a  third  generation, 
asexual,  as  before  ;  and  the  same  process  is  repeated  with- 
out intermission  as  long  as  the  warm  weather  lasts.  In 
each  case,  the  young  simply  bud  out  from  the  ovaries  of 
the  mothers,  exactly  as  new  crops  of  leaves  bud  out  from 
the  rose-branch  on  which  they  grow.  Eleven  generations 
have  thus  been  observed  to  follow  one  another  rapidly  in 
a  single  summer ;  and  indeed,  by  keeping  the  aphides  in  a 
warm  room,  one  may  even  make  them  continue  their  re- 
production in  this  purely  vegetative  fashion  for  as  many  as 


HONEY-DEW  163 

four  years  running.  But  as  soon  as  the  cold  weather  begins 
to  set  in,  perfect  male  and  female  insects  are  produced  by 
the  last  swarm  of  parthenogenetic  mothers ;  and  these  true 
females,  after  being  fertilised,  lay  the  eggs  which  remain 
through  the  winter,  and  from  which  the  next  summer's 
broods  have  to  begin  afresh  the  wonderful  cycle.  Thus, 
only  one  generation  of  aphides,  out  of  ten  or  eleven,  con- 
sists of  true  males  and  females  :  all  the  rest  are  false 
females,  producing  young  by  a  process  of  budding. 

Setting  aside  for  the  present  certain  special  modifica- 
tions of  this  strange  cycle  which  have  been  lately  described 
by  M.  Jules  Lichtenstein,  let  us  consider  for  a  moment 
what  can  be  the  origin  and  meaning  of  such  an  unusual 
and  curious  mode  of  reproduction. 

The  aphides  are  on  the  whole  the  most  purely  inactive 
and  vegetative  of  all  insects,  unless  indeed  we  except  a  few 
very  debased  and  degraded  parasites.  They  fasten  them- 
selves early  in  life  on  to  a  particular  shoot  of  a  particular 
plant ;  they  drink  in  its  juices,  digest  them,  grow,  and 
undergo  their  incomplete  metamorphoses ;  they  produce 
new  generations  with  extraordinary  rapidity :  and  they 
vegetate,  in  fact,  almost  as  much  as  the  plant  itself  upon 
which  they  are  living.  Their  existence  is  duller  than  that 
of  the  very  dullest  cathedral  city.  They  are  thus  essen- 
tially degenerate  creatures  :  they  have  found  the  conditions 
of  life  too  easy  for  them,  and  they  have  reverted  to  some- 
thing so  low  and  simple  that  they  are  almost  plant-like  in 
some  of  their  habits  and  peculiarities. 

The  ancestors  of  the  aphides  were  free  winged  insects ; 
and,  in  certain  stages  of  their  existence,  most  living  species 
of  aphides  possess  at  least  some  winged  members.  On 
the  rose-bush,  you  can  generally  pick  off  a  few  such  larger 
winged  forms,  side  by  side  with  the  wee  green  wingless 
insects.     But  creatures  which  have  taken  to  passing  most 


1G4  HONEY-DEW 

of  their  life  upon  a  sinprlc!  spot  on  a  single  plant  hardly 
need  the  luxury  of  wings  ;  and  so,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten» 
natural  selection  has  dispensed  with  those  needless  encum- 
brances. Even  the  legs  are  comparatively  little  wanted  by 
our  modern  aphides,  which  only  require  them  to  walk  away 
in  a  stately  sleepy  manner  when  rudely  disturbed  by  man, 
lady- birds,  or  other  enemies  ;  and  indeed  the  legs  are  now 
very  weak  and  feeble,  and  incapable  of  walking  for  more 
than  a  short  distance  at  a  time  under  exceptional  provoca- 
tion. The  eyes  remain,  it  is  true  ;  but  only  the  big  ones  : 
the  little  ocelli  at  the  top  of  the  head,  found  amongst  so 
many  of  their  alhes,  are  quite  wanting  in  all  the  aphides. 
In  short,  the  plant-lice  have  degenerated  into  mere  mouths 
and  sacks  for  sucking  and  storing  food  from  the  tissues  of 
plants,  provided  with  large  honey-tubes  for  getting  rid  of 
the  waste  sugar. 

Now,  the  greater  the  amount  of  food  any  animal  gets, 
and  the  less  the  amount  of  expenditure  it  performs  in 
muscular  action,  the  greater  will  be  the  surplus  it  has  left 
over  for  the  purposes  of  reproduction.  Eggs  or  young,  in 
fact,  represent  the  amount  thus  left  over  after  all  the  wants 
of  the  body  have  been  provided  for.  But  in  the  rose-aphis 
the  wants  of  the  body,  when  once  the  insect  has  reached 
its  full  growth,  are  absolutely  nothing  ;  and  it  therefore 
then  begins  to  bud  out  new  generations  in  rapid  succession 
as  fast  as  ever  it  can  produce  them.  This  is  strictly 
analogous  to  what  we  see  every  day  taking  place  in  all  the 
plants  around  us.  New  leaves  are  produced  one  after 
another,  as  fast  as  material  can  be  supplied  for  their  nutrition, 
and  each  of  these  new  leaves  is  known  to  be  a  separate 
individual,  just  as  much  as  the  individual  aphis.  At  last, 
however,  a  time  comes  when  the  reproductive  power  of  the 
plant  begins  to  fail,  and  then  it  produces  flowers,  that  is  to 
say  stamens  (male)  and  pistils  (female),  whose  union  results 


HONEY-DEW  165 

in  fertilisation  and  tlie  subsoqucnt  outprrowth  of  fruit  and 
seeds.  Tims  a  year's  cycle  of  the  plant-lice  exactly  answers 
to  the  life-history  of  an  ordinary  annual.  Thecf?f,'s  corre- 
spond to  the  seeds ;  the  various  generations  of  aphides 
budding  out  from  one  another  by  parthenogenesis  corre- 
spond to  the  leaves  budded  out  by  one  another  throughout 
the  summer  ;  and  the  final  brood  of  perfect  males  and 
females  answers  to  the  flower  with  its  stamen  and  pistils, 
producing  the  seeds,  as  they  produce  the  eggs,  for  setting 
up  afresh  the  next  year's  cycle. 

This  consideration,  I  fancy,  suggests  to  us  the  most 
probable  explanation  of  the  honey-tubes  and  honey-dew. 
Creatures  that  eat  so  much  and  reproduce  so  fast  as  the 
aphides  are  rapidly  sucking  up  juices  all  the  time  from  the 
plant  on  which  they  fasten,  and  converting  most  of  the 
nutriment  so  absorbed  into  material  for  fresh  generations. 
That  is  how  they  swarm  so  fast  over  all  our  shrubs  and 
flowers.  But  if  there  is  any  one  kind  of  mat.^rial  in  their 
food  in  excess  of  their  needs,  they  would  nati  rally  have  to 
secrete  it  by  a  special  organ  developed  or  enlaiged  for  the 
purpose.  I  don't  mean  that  the  organ  would  or  could  be 
developed  all  at  once,  by  a  sudden  effort,  but  that  as  the 
habit  of  fixing  themselves  upon  plants  and  sucking  their 
juices  grew  from  generation  to  generation  with  these 
descendants  of  originally  winged  insects,  an  organ  for 
permitting  the  waste  product  to  exude  must  necessarily  have 
grown  side  by  side  with  it.  Sugar  seems  to  liav'3  been  such 
a  waste  product,  contained  in  the  juices  of  the  plant  to 
an  extent  beyond  what  the  aphides  could  assimilate  or  use 
up  in  the  production  of  new  broods  ;  and  this  sugar  is  there- 
fore secreted  by  special  organs,  the  honey-tubes.  One  can 
readily  imagine  that  it  may  at  first  have  escaped  in  small 
quantities,  and  that  two  pores  on  their  last  segment  but 
two    may   have  been    gradually  specialised  into  regular 


1 66  HONEY- DEW 

Becreting  organs,  pcrliaps  under  the  peculiar  agency  of  the 
ants,  who  have  regularly  appropriated  so  many  kinds  of 
aphides  as  miniature  milch  cows. 

So  completely  have  some  species  of  ants  come  to 
recognise  their  own  proprietary  interest  in  the  persons  of 
the  aphides,  that  they  provide  them  with  fences  and  cow- 
sheds on  the  most  approved  human  pattern.  Sometimes 
they  build  up  covered  galleries  to  protect  their  tiny  cattle ; 
and  these  galleries  lead  fi'om  the  nest  to  the  place  where 
the  aphides  are  fixed,  and  completely  enclose  the  little 
creatures  from  all  chance  of  harm.  If  intruders  try  to 
attack  the  farmyard,  the  ants  drive  them  away  by  biting 
and  lacerating  them.  Sir  John  Lubbock,  who  has  paid 
great  attention  to  the  mutual  relations  of  ants  and  aphides, 
has  even  shown  that  various  kinds  of  ants  domesticate 
various  species  of  aphis.  The  common  brown  garden-ant, 
one  of  the  darkest  skinned  among  our  English  races, 
'  devotes  itself  principally  to  aphides  which  frequent  twigs 
and  leaves  ' ;  especially,  so  far  as  I  have  myself  observed, 
the  bright  green  aphis  of  the  rose,  and  the  closely  allied 
little  black  aphis  of  the  broad  bean.  On  the  other  hand  a 
nearly  related  reddish  ant  pays  attention  chiefly  to  those 
aphides  which  live  on  the  bark  of  trees,  while  the  yellow 
meadow-ants,  a  far  more  subterranean  species,  keep  flocks 
and  herds  of  the  like-minded  aphides  which  feed  upon  the 
roots  of  herbs  and  grasses. 

Sir  John  Lubbock,  indeed,  even  suggests — and  how  the 
suggestion  would  have  charmed  '  Civilisation  '  Buckle  1 — 
that  to  this  difiference  o^'  food  and  habit  the  distinctive 
colours  of  the  various  species  may  very  probably  be  due. 
The  ground  which  he  adduces  for  this  ingenious  idea  is  a 
capital  example  of  the  excellent  use  to  which  out-of-the- 
way  evidence  may  be  cleverly  put  by  a  competent  evolu- 
tionary thinker.     '  The  Baltic  amber,'  he  says,  '  contains 


nONEY-DEW  167 

among  tho  remains  of  many  other  insects  a  species  of  ant 
intermediate  between  our  small  brown  garden-ants  and  the 
little  yellow  meadow-onts.  Tliis  is  possibly  the  stock  from 
which  these  and  other  allied  species  are  descended.  One 
is  tempted  to  suggest  that  the  brown  species  which  live  so 
much  in  the  open  air,  and  climb  up  tre(,'S  and  bushes,  have 
retained  and  even  deepened  their  dark  colour  ;  while  others, 
such  as  tho  yellow  meadow-ant,  which  lives  almost  entirely 
below  ground,  have  become  much  paler.'  He  might  have 
added,  as  confirmatory  evidence,  the  fact  that  the  perfect 
winged  males  and  females  of  the  yellow  species,  which  fly 
about  freely  during  the  brief  honeymoon  in  the  open  air,  are 
even  darker  in  hue  than  tho  brown  garden-ant.  But  how 
the  light  colour  of  the  neuter  workers  gets  transmitted 
through  these  dusky  parents  from  one  generation  to  another 
is  part  of  that  most  insoluble  crux  of  all  evolutionary  | 
reasoning — the  transmission  of  special  qualities  to  neuters 
by  parents  who  have  never  possessed  them. 

This  last-mentioned  yellow  moadow-ant  has  carried  the 
system  of  domestication  further  in  all  probability  than  any 
other  species  among  its  congeners.  Not  only  do  the  yellow 
ants  collect  the  root-feeding  aphides  in  their  own  nests, 
and  tend  them  as  carefully  as  their  own  young,  but  they 
also  gather  and  guard  the  eggs  of  the  aphides,  which,  till 
they  come  to  maturity,  are  of  course  quite  useless.  Sir 
John  Lubbock  found  that  his  yellow  ants  carried  the  winter 
eggs  of  a  species  of  aphis  into  their  nest,  and  there  took 
great  care  of  them.  In  the  spring,  the  eggs  hatched  out ; 
and  the  ants  actually  carried  the  young  aphides  out  of  the 
nest  again,  and  placed  them  on  the  leaves  of  a  daisy 
growing  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood.  They  then  built 
up  a  wall  of  earth  over  and  round  them.  The  aphides 
went  on  in  their  usual  lazy  fashion  throughout  the  summer, 
and  in  October  they  laid  another  lot  of  eggs,  precisely  like 


1G8  IIONEY-DEW 

tlioRo  of  tlio  preceding'  autimm.  This  case,  as  the  prac- 
tised ob;,t'rvci'  hiinsolf  remarks,  is  an  iiistaiico  of  prudeiico 
unexampled,  pcrlmiJS,  in  tlie  animal  kingdom,  outside  man. 
•  The  ogg"^  ^ro  laid  early  in  October  on  the  ibod-plant  of 
the  insect.  They  are  of  no  direct  use  to  the  ants ;  yet 
they  are  not  left  where  they  are  laid,  exposed  to  the 
severity  of  tlie  -weatlier  and  to  innumerable  dan^'ers,  but 
brought  into  their  nests  by  the  ants,  and  t(!nd(>d  l)y  them 
with  the  utmost  care  througli  the  long  winter  months  until 
the  folhjwing  March,  wlien  the  young  ones  are  brought  out 
again  and  phiced  on  the  young  shoots  of  tlie  daisy.'  Mr. 
White  of  Stonehouse  has  also  noted  an  exactly  simiUir 
instance  of  formican  providence. 

The  connection  between  so  many  ants  and  so  many 
species  of  the  aphides  being  so  close  and  intimate,  it  does 
not  seem  extra\agant  to  suppose  that  the  honey-tubes  in 
their  existing  advanced  form  at  least  nuiy  be  due  to  the 
deliberate  selective  action  of  these  tiny  insect-breeders. 
Indeed,  when  we  consider  that  there  are  certain  species  of 
beetles  which  have  never  been  found  anywhere  except  in 
ants'  nests,  it  ajjpears  highly  probable  that  these  domesti- 
cated forms  have  been  produced  by  the  ants  themselves, 
exactly  as  the  dog,  the  sheep,  and  the  cow,  in  their 
existing  types,  have  been  produced  by  deliberate  human 
selection.  If  this  be  so,  then  there  is  nothing  very  out-of- 
the-way  in  the  idea  that  the  ants  have  also  ])roduced  the 
honey-tubes  of  aphides  by  their  long  s(dectiv(i  action.  It 
must  be  reniend)ered  that  ants,  in  point  of  antiquity,  date 
back,  under  one  form  or  another,  no  doubt  to  a  very  remote 
period  of  geological  time.  Their  immense  variety  of  genera 
and  species  (over  a  thousand  distinct  kinds  are  known)  show 
them  to  bo  a  very  ancient  family,  or  else  they  would  not 
liave  had  time  to  be  specially  modified  in  such  a  wondtir- 
ful  multiformity  of  ways.      Even  as  long  ago  as  the  time 


HONEY-DEW  1G9 

wlion  tlio  tertiary  deposits  of  (Kninpon  aiul  Radoboj  wcro 
laid  down,  Dr.  Hcer  of  Zuricli  has  shown  that  at  least 
eighty-three  distinct  species  of  ants  ah'cady  existed  ;  and 
the  number  that  have  left  no  trace  behind  is  most  ])robahly 
far  greater.  Home  of  the  beetles  and  woodlice  which  ants 
domesticate  in  tlieir  nests  have  been  kept  underground  so 
long  that  tliey  have  become  quite  blind — that  is  to  say, 
have  ceased  altogether  to  produce  eyes,  which  would  be  of 
no  use  to  them  in  their  subterraiman  galleries ;  and  one 
such  blind  beetle,  known  as  Claviger,  has  even  lost  the 
power  of  feeding  itself,  and  has  to  bo  led  by  its  masters 
from  their  own  mandibles.  Dr.  Taschenlx^rg  enumerates 
800  species  of  true  ants'-nest  insects,  mostly  beetles,  in 
Germany  alone;  and  ]\I.  Andre  gives  a  list  of  OHl  kinds, 
habitually  found  in  association  with  ants  in  one  country  or 
another.  Compared  with  tluise  singular  results  of  formi- 
can  selection,  the  mere  production  or  further  dev(;lopment 
of  the  honey-tubes  apjiears  to  bo  a  very  small  nuitter. 

But  what  good  do  the  aphides  themselves  derive  from  the 
power  of  secreting  honc^-dew  ?  For  we  know  now  that 
no  animal  or  plant  is  ever  provided  with  any  organ  or 
part  merely  for  the  benefit  of  another  creat)n'e  :  the 
advantage  must  at  least  be  mutual.  Well,  in  the  first 
place,  it  is  likely  that,  in  any  case,  the  amount  of  sugary 
matter  in  the  food  of  the  a|)hides  is  (juite  in  excess  of 
their  needs ;  they  assimilate  the  nitrogenous  material  of 
the  sap,  and  secrete  its  saccharine  nuiterial  as  honi^y-dcw. 
That,  however,  would  luirdly  account  for  the  devel()])nu'nt 
of  special  secretory  ducts,  like  the  honey-tubes,  in  which 
you  can  actually  see  the  little  drops  of  honey  rolling,  under 
the  microscope.  But  the  ants  are  usehil  allies  to  tho 
aphides,  in  guarding  them  from  another  very  dangc^'ous 
type  of  insect.  They  are  Bul)ject  to  tlie  attacks  of  an 
ichneumon  lly,  which  lays  its  eggs  in  them,  meaning  ita 


170  HONEY-DEW 

larvas  to  feed  upon  their  living  bodies ;  rnd  the  ants  watch 
over  the  aphides  with  the  greatest  vigilance,  driving  off  the 
ichneumons  whenever  they  approach  tlieir  little  protdrjis. 

Many  other  insects  besides  ants,  however,  are  fond  of 
the  sweet  secretions  of  the  aphides,  and  it  is  probable  that 
the  honey-dew  thus  acts  to  some  extent  as  a  pntservative 
of  the  species,  by  diverting  possible  foes  from  the  insects 
themselves,  to  the  sugary  liquid  which  they  distil  from 
their  food-plants.  Having  more  than  enough  and  to  spare 
for  all  their  own  needs,  and  the  needs  of  their  offspring, 
the  plant-lice  can  afford  to  employ  a  little  of  their  nutri- 
ment as  a  bribe  to  secure  them  from  the  attacks  of  possible 
enemies.  Such  compensatory  bribes  are  common  enough 
in  the  economy  of  nature.  Thus  our  common  English 
vetch  secretes  a  little  honey  on  the  stipules  or  wing-like 
leaflets  on  the  stem,  and  so  distracts  thieving  ants  from 
committing  their  depredations  upon  the  nectaries  in  the 
flowers,  which  are  intended  for  the  attraction  of  the  fertilis- 
ing bees ;  and  a  South  American  acacia,  as  Mr.  Belt  has 
shown,  bears  hollow  thorns  and  produces  honey  from  a 
gland  in  each  leaflet,  in  order  to  allure  myriads  of  small 
ants  which  nest  in  the  thorns,  eat  the  honey,  and  repay  the 
plant  by  driving  away  their  leaf-cutting  congeners.  Indeed, 
as  they  sting  violently,  and  issue  forth  in  enormous  swarms 
whenever  the  plant  is  attacked,  they  are  even  al)le  to  frighten 
off  browsing  cattle  from  their  own  peculiar  acacia. 

Aphides,  then,  are  essentially  degraded  insects,  which 
have  become  almost  vegetative  in  their  habits,  and  even  in 
their  mode  of  reproduction,  but  which  still  retain  a  few 
marks  of  their  original  descent  from  higher  and  more 
locomotive  ancestors.  Their  wings,  especially,  are  useful 
to  the  perfect  forms  in  finding  one  another,  and  to  the  im- 
perfect ones  in  migrating  from  one  plant  to  its  nearest 
neighbours,  where  they  soon  become  the  parents  of  fresh 


HONEY-DEW  171 

hordes  in  rapid  succession.  Ilonco  various  kinds  of  aphides 
are  among  tlie  most  droadod  plapfuos  of  af,'ricnlturists.  The 
*ily,'  whicli  Kentish  farmers  know  so  well  on  liops,  is  an 
aphis  specialised  for  that  piirticiilar  hine  ;  and,  wlicn  once 
it  appears  hi  the  f^'iirdens,  il  spreads  with  startlin,!jf  rapidity 
from  one  end  of  the  l()n<,'  rows  to  the  other.  Tiie  pliylloxera 
which  has  spoilt  the  French  vineyards  is  a  root-feediii'^ 
form  that  r  backs  the  vine,  and  kills  or  maims  the  plant 
terribly,  by  sucking  the  vital  juices  on  their  way  up  into 
the  fresh-forming  foliage.  The  '  American  blight '  on  apple 
trees  is  yet  another  member  of  the  same  family,  a  wee 
creeping  cottony  creature  that  hides  among  the  fissures  of 
the  bark,  and  drives  its  very  long  beak  far  down  into  the 
green  sappy  layer  underlying  the  dead  outer  covering.  In 
fact,  almost  all  the  best-known  'blights'  and  bladder- 
forming  insects  are  aphides  of  one  kind  or  another,  affect, 
ing  leaves,  or  stalks,  or  roots,  or  branches. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  examples  of  the 
Hmitation  of  Imman  ])o\vers  that  while  we  can  easily  ex- 
terminate large  animals  like  the  wolf  and  the  bear  in 
England,  or  the  punui  and  the  wolverine  in  the  settled 
States  of  America,  we  should  be  so  comparatively  weak 
against  the  Colorado  Ix-etle  or  the  fourteen-year  locust,  and 
so  absolutely  powerless  against  the  hop-ily,  the  turnip-fly, 
and  the  phylloxera.  The  smaller  and  the  more  insignificant 
our  enemy,  viewed  individually,  the  more  dilKcult  is  he  to 
cope  with  in  the  mass.  All  the  elephants  in  the  world  could 
have  been  hunted  down  and  annibilated,  in  all  probability, 
with  far  less  labour  than  has  been  expended  upon  one  single 
little  all  but  microscopic  parasite  in  ]'']'ance  alone.  The 
enormous  rapidity  of  reproduction  in  the  family  of  a])hides 
is  the  true  cause  of  our  helplessness  before  them.  It  has 
been  calculated  that  a  single  aphis  may  during  its  own  life- 
time become  the  progenitor  of  5,yOi,yOO,000  descendants. 
12 


172  HONEY-DEW 

Each  imperfect  female  produces  about  ninety  young  ones, 
and  lives  long  enough  to  see  its  children's  children  to  the 
fifth  generation.  Now,  ninety  multiplied  by  ninety  four 
times  over  gives  the  number  above  stated.  Of  course, 
this  makes  no  allowance  for  casualties  which  must  be 
pretty  frequent :  but  even  so,  the  sum-total  of  aphides 
produced  within  a  small  garden  in  a  single  summer  must 
be  something  very  extraordinary. 

It  is  curious,  too,  that  aphides  on  the  whole  seem  to 
escape  the  notice  of  insect-eating  birds  very  tolerably.  I 
cannot,  in  fact,  discover  that  birds  ever  eat  them,  their 
chief  real  enemy  being  the  little  lizard-like  larva  of  the 
lady-bird,  which  devours  them  everywhere  greedily  in 
immense  numbers.  Indeed,  aphides  form  almost  the  sole 
food  of  the  entire  lady-bird  tribe  in  their  earlier  stages  of 
existence ;  and  there  is  no  better  way  of  getting  rid  of 
blight  on  roses  and  other  garden  plants  than  to  bring  in  a 
good  boxful  of  these  active  and  voracious  little  grubs  from 
the  fields  and  hedges.  They  will  pounce  upon  the  aphides 
forthwith  as  a  cat  pounces  upon  the  mice  in  a  well-stocked 
barn  or  farmyard.  The  two-spotted  lady-bird  in  particular 
is  the  determined  exterminator  of  the  destructive  hop-fly, 
and  is  much  beloved  accordingly  by  Kentish  fanners.  No 
doubt,  one  reason  why  birds  do  not  readily  see  the  aphis  of 
the  rose  and  most  other  species  is  because  of  their  prevail- 
ing green  tint,  and  the  close  way  in  which  they  stick  to  the 
leaves  or  shoots  on  whose  juices  they  are  preying.  But  in 
the  case  of  many  black  and  violet  species,  this  protection 
of  imitative  colour  is  wanting,  and  yet  the  birds  do  not  seem 
to  care  for  the  very  conspicuous  little  insects  on  the  broad 
bean,  for  example,  whose  dusky  hue  makes  them  quite 
noticeable  in  large  masses.  Here  there  may  very  likely  be 
some  special  protection  of  nauseous  taste  in  the  aphides 
themselves  (I  will  confess  that  I  have  not  ventured  to  try 


HONEY-DEW  173 

the  experiment  in  person),  as  in  many  other  instances  we 
know  that  conspicuously- coloured  insects  advertise  their 
nastiness,  as  it  were,  to  the  birds  by  their  own  integuments, 
and  so  escape  being  eaten  in  mistake  for  any  of  their  less 
protected  relatives. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  seems  pretty  clear  that  certain 
plants  have  efficiently  armed  themselves  against  the 
aphides,  in  turn,  by  secreting  bitter  or  otherwise  un- 
pleasant juices.  So  far  as  I  can  discover,  the  little 
plunderers  seldom  touch  the  pungent  'nasturtiums'  or 
tropceolums  of  our  flower-gardens,  even  when  these  grow 
side  by  side  with  other  plants  on  which  the  aphides  are 
swarming.  Often,  indeed,  I  find  winged  forms  upon  the 
leaf-stem  of  a  nasturtium,  having  come  there  evidently  in 
hopes  of  starting  a  new  colony  ;  but  usually  in  a  dead  or 
dying  condition — the  pungent  juice  seems  to  have  poisoned 
them.  So,  too,  spinach  and  lettuce  may  be  covered  with 
blight,  while  the  bitter  spurges,  the  woolly-leaved  arabis, 
and  the  strong-scented  thyme  close  by  are  utterly  un- 
touched. Plants  seem  to  have  acquired  all  these  devices, 
such  as  close  networks  of  hair  upon  the  leaves,  strong 
essences,  bitter  or  pungent  juices,  and  poisonous  principles, 
mainly  as  deterrents  for  insect  enemies,  of  which  cater- 
pillars and  plant-lice  are  by  far  the  most  destructive.  It 
would  be  unpardonable,  of  course,  to  write  about  honey- 
dew  without  mentioning  tobacco  ;  and  I  may  add  paren- 
thetically that  aphides  are  determined  anti-tobacconists, 
nicotine,  in  fact,  being  a  deadly  poison  to  them.  Smoking 
with  tobacco,  or  sprinkling  with  tobacco-water,  are  familiar 
modes  of  getting  rid  of  the  unwelcome  intruders  in  gardens. 
Doubtless  this  peculiar  property  of  the  tobacco  plant  has 
been  developed  as  a  prophylactic  against  insect  enemies  : 
and  if  so,  we  may  perhaps  owe  the  \veed  itself,  as  a 
emokable  leaf,  to  the  little  aphides.      Granting  this  hypo- 


174  HONEY-DEW 

thetical  connection,  the  name  of  honey-dew  would  mdeed 
be  a  peeuhorly  appropriate  one.  I  may  mention  in  passing 
that  tobacco  is  quite  fatal  to  almost  all  insects,  a  fact  which 
I  present  gratuitously  to  the  blowers  of  counterblasts,  who 
are  at  liberty  to  make  whatever  use  they  choose  of  it. 
Quassia  and  aloes  are  also  well-known  preventives  of  fly  or 
blight  in  gardens. 

The  most  complete  life-history  yet  given  of  any  member 
of  the  apliis  family  is  that  wliich  M.  Jules  Lichtenstein 
has  worked  out  with  so  much  care  in  the  case  of  the 
phylloxera  of  the  oak-tree.  In  April,  the  winter  eggs  of 
this  species,  laid  in  the  bark  of  an  oak,  each  hatch  out  a 
wingless  imperfect  female,  which  M.  Lichtenstein  calls  the 
foundress.  After  moulting  four  times,  the  foundress 
produces,  by  parthenogenesis,  a  number  of  false  eggs,  which 
it  fastens  to  the  leaf-stalks  and  under  side  of  the  foliage. 
These  false  eggs  hatch  out  a  larval  form,  wingless,  but 
bigger  than  any  of  the  subsequent  generations ;  and  the 
larvo3  so  produced  themselves  once  more  give  origin  to 
more  larvje,  which  acquire  wings,  and  fly  away  from  the 
oak  on  wliich  they  were  born  to  another  of  a  different 
species  in  the  same  neighbourhood.  There  these  larvae  of 
the  second  crop  once  more  lay  false  eggs,  from  which  the 
third  larval  generation  is  developed.  This  brood  is  again 
wingless,  and  it  proceeds  at  once  to  bud  out  several  gene- 
rations more,  by  internal  gemmation,  as  long  as  the  warm 
weather  lasts.  According  to  M,  Lichtenstein,  all  previous 
observations  have  been  made  only  on  aphides  of  this  third 
type ;  and  he  maintains  that  every  species  in  the  whole 
family  really  undergoes  an  analogous  alternation  of  gene- 
rations. At  last,  when  the  cold  weather  begins  to  set  in, 
a  fourth  larval  form  appears,  which  soon  obtains  wings, 
and  flies  back  to  the  same  kind  of  oak  on  which  the  found- 
resses were  first  hatched  out,  all  the  intervening  generations 


HONEY-DEW  175 

Laving  passed  their  lives  in  sucking  tlie  juices  of  the  otlier 
oak  to  which  the  second  larval  form  migrated.  The  fourth 
type  here  produce  perfect  male  and  female  insects,  which 
are  wingless,  and  have  no  sucking  apparatus.  The  females, 
after  heing  impregnated,  lay  a  single  egg  each,  which  they 
hide  in  the  hark,  where  it  remains  during  the  winter,  till 
in  spring  it  once  more  hatches  out  into  a  foundress,  and 
the  whole  cycle  begins  over  again.  Whether  all  the  aphides 
do  or  do  not  pass  through  corresponding  stages  is  not  yet 
quite  certain.  But  Kentish  farmers  believe  that  the  hop- 
fly  migrates  to  hop-bines  from  plum-trees  in  the  neighbour- 
hood ;  and  M.  Lichtenstein  considers  that  such  migrations 
from  one  plant  to  another  are  quite  normal  in  the  family. 
We  know,  indeed,  that  many  great  plagues  of  our  crops  are 
thus  propagated,  sometimes  among  closely  related  plants, 
but  sometimes  also  among  the  most  widely  separated 
species.  For  example,  turnip-fly  (which  is  not  an  aphis,  but 
a  small  beetle)  always  begins  its  ravages  (as  Miss  Ormerod 
has  abundantly  shown)  upon  a  plot  of  charlock,  and  then 
spreads  from  patches  of  that  weed  to  the  neighbouring 
turnips,  which  are  slightly  diverse  members  of  the  same 
genus.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  has  long  been  well  known 
that  rust  in  wheat  is  specially  connected  with  the  presence 
of  the  barberry  bush  ;  and  it  has  recently  been  proved  that 
the  fungus  which  produces  the  disease  passes  its  early 
stages  on  the  barberry  leaves,  and  only  migrates  in  later 
generations  to  the  growing  wheat.  This  last  case  brings 
even  more  prominently  into  light  than  ever  the  essential 
resemblance  of  the  aphides  to  plant-parasites. 


176  THE  MILK  IN  THE  COCO-NUT 


THE  MILK  IN  THE  COCO-NUT 

For  many  centuries  the  occult  problem  how  to  account  for 
the  milk  in  the  coco-nut  has  awakened  the  profoundest 
interest  alike  of  ingenuous  infancy  and  of  maturer  scien- 
tific age.  Though  it  cannot  be  truthfully  affirmed  of  it, 
as  of  the  cosmogony  or  creation  of  the  world,  in  the  *  Vicar 
of  Wakefield,'  that  it  '  has  puzzled  the  philosophers  of  all 
ages '  (for  Sanchoniathon  was  certainly  ignorant  of  the 
very  existence  of  that  delicious  juice,  and  Manetho  doubt- 
less went  to  his  grave  witliout  ever  having  tasted  it  fre-h 
from  the  nut  under  a  tropical  verandah),  yet  it  may  be 
safely  asserted  that  for  the  last  three  hundred  years  the 
philosopher  who  has  not  at  some  time  or  other  of  his  life 
meditated  upon  that  abstruse  question  is  unworthy  of  such 
an  exalted  name.  The  cosmogony  and  the  milk  in  the 
coco-nut  are,  however,  a  great  deal  closer  together  in 
thought  than  Sanchoniathon  or  Manetho,  or  the  rogue  who 
quoted  them  so  glibly,  is  ever  at  all  likely,  in  his  wildest 
moments,  to  have  imagined. 

The  coco-nut,  in  fact,  is  a  subject  well  deserving  of  the 
most  sympathetic  treatment  at  the  gentle  hands  of  grate- 
ful humanity.  No  other  plant  is  useful  to  us  in  so  many 
diverse  and  remarkable  maimers.  It  has  been  tiuly  said 
of  that  friend  of  man,  the  domestic  pig,  that  he  iti  all  good, 
from  the  end  of  his  snout  to  the  tip  of  his  tail ;  biit  even 
the  pig,  though  he  furnishes  us  with  so  many  necessaries 


THE  MIUC  IN  THE  COCO-NUT  177 

or  luxuries — from  tooth-brushes  to  sausages,  from  ham  to 
lard,  from  pepsine  wine  to  pork  pies— does  not  nearly  ap- 
proach, in  the  multiplicity  and  variety  of  his  virtues,  the 
all-suflicing  and  world-supplying  coco-nut.  A  Chinese 
proverb  says  that  there  are  as  many  useful  properties  in 
the  coco-nut  palm  as  there  are  days  in  the  year ;  and  a 
Tolynesian  saying  tells  us  that  the  man  who  plants  a  coco- 
nut plants  meat  and  drink,  hearth  and  home,  vessels  and 
clothing,  for  himself  and  his  children  after  him.  Like 
the  great  Mr,  Whiteley,  the  invaluable  palm-tree  might 
modestly  advertise  itself  as  a  universal  provider.  The 
solid  part  of  the  nut  supplies  food  almost  alone  to  thou- 
sands of  people  daily,  and  the  milk  serves  them  for  drink, 
thus  acting  as  an  eilicient  filter  to  the  water  absorbed  by 
the  roots  in  the  most  polluted  or  malarious  regions.  If  you 
tap  the  flower  stalk  you  get  a  sweet  juice,  which  can  be 
boiled  down  into  the  peculiar  sugar  called  (in  the  charming 
dialect  of  commerce)  jaggery  ;  or  it  can  be  fermented  into 
a  very  nasty  spirit  known  as  palm-wine,  toddy,  or  arrack  ; 
or  it  can  be  mixed  with  bitter  herbs  and  roots  to  make  that 
delectable  compound  *  native  beer.'  If  you  squeeze  the 
dry  nut  you  get  coco-nut  oil,  which  is  as  good  as  lard  for 
frying  when  fresh,  and  is  *an  excellent  substitute  for  butter 
at  breakfast,'  on  tropical  tables.  Under  the  mysterious 
name  of  copra  (which  most  of  us  have  seen  with  awe  de- 
scribed in  the  market  reports  as  *  firm '  or  *  weak,'  *  receding ' 
or  *  steady ' )  it  forms  the  main,  or  only  export  of  many 
Oceanic  islands,  and  is  largely  imported  into  this  realm  of 
England,  where  the  thicker  portion  is  called  stearine,  and 
used  for  making  sundry  candles  with  fanciful  names,  while 
the  clear  oil  is  employed  for  burning  in  ordinary  lamps.  In 
the  process  of  purification,  it  yields  glycerine  ;  and  it  enters 
largely  into  the  manufacture  of  most  better-class  soaps. 
The  fibre  that  surrounds  the  nut  makes  up  the  other 


178  THE  MILK   IN  THE  COCO-NUT 

mysterious  article  of  commerce  known  ns  coir,  which  is 
twisted  into  stout  ropes,  or  woven  into  coco-nut  matting 
and  ordinary  door-mats.  Jkushes  and  brooms  are  also 
made  of  it,  and  it  is  used,  not  always  in  the  most  honest 
fashion,  in  place  of  real  horse-hair  in  stufhnj,'  cushions. 
Th?  shell,  cut  in  half,  supplies  good  cups,  and  is  artistically 
carved  by  the  Polynesians,  Japanese,  Hindoos,  and  otiier 
beni{,'hted  heathen,  who  have  not  yet  learnt  the  true 
methods  of  civilised  machine-made  shoddy  manufacture. 
The  leaves  servo  as  excellent  thatch ;  on  the  flat  blades, 
prepared  like  papyrus,  the  most  famous  Buddhist  manu- 
scripts are  written ;  the  long  mid-ribs  or  branches  (strictly 
speaking,  the  leaf-stalks)  answer  admirably  for  rafters, 
posts,  or  fencing  ;  the  fibrous  sheath  at  the  base  is  a 
remarkable  natural  imitation  of  cloth,  employed  for 
strainers,  wrappers,  and  native  hats  ;  while  the  trunk,  or 
stem,  passes  in  carpentry  under  the  name  of  porcupine 
wood,  atid  produces  beautiful  effects  as  a  wonderfully 
coloured  cabinet-makers'  material.  These  are  only  a  few 
selected  instances  out  of  the  innumerable  uses  of  the  coco- 
nut palm. 

Apart  even  from  the  manifold  merits  of  the  tree  that 
bears  it,  the  milk  itself  his  many  and  great  claims  to  our 
respect  and  esteem,  as  everybody  who  has  ever  drunk  it  in 
its  native  surroundings  will  enthusiastically  admit.  In 
England,  to  be  sure,  the  white  milk  in  the  dry  nuts  is  a 
very  poor  stuff,  sickly,  and  strong-flavoured,  and  rather  in- 
digestible. But  in  the  tropics,  coco-nut  milk,  or,  as  we 
oftener  call  it  there,  coco-nut  water,  is  a  very  different  and 
vastly  superior  sort  of  beverage.  At  eleven  o'clock  every 
morning,  when  you  are  hot  and  tired  with  the  day's  work, 
your  black  servant,  clad  from  head  to  foot  in  his  cool  clean 
white  linen  suit,  brings  you  in  a  tall  soda  glass  full  of  a 
clear,  light,  crystal  liquid,  temptingly  displayed  against  the 


THE  MILK  IN  THE  COCO-NUT  179 

yellow  backi,'ioiiiul  of  a  chasfcl  Ik'iiares  brass- work  tiay. 
The  lump  of  ice  bohs  enticin^'ly  up  and  down  in  the  centre 
of  the  tumbler,  or  clinks  musically  against  tho  edge  of  the 
glass  as  he  carries  it  along.  You  take  tlie  cool  cup  tliank- 
fully  and  swallow  it  down  at  one  long  draught ;  fresh  as  a 
^lay  morning,  pure  as  an  English  hillside  spring,  delicate 
as  -well,  as  coco-nut  water.  Is'one  but  itself  can  be  its 
parallel.  It  is  certainly  the  most  delicious,  dainty,  trans- 
parent, crystal  drink  ever  invented.  How  did  it  get  there, 
and  what  is  it  for  ? 

In  the  early  green  stage  at  which  coco-nuts  are  gene- 
rally picked  for  houscliold  use  in  the  tropics  the  shell  hasn't 
yet  solidilicd  into  a  hard  stony  coat,  but  still  remains  quite 
soft  enough  to  be  readily  cut  through  with  a  sharp  table 
knife — ^just  like  young  walnuts  picked  for  pickling.  If  you 
cut  one  across  while  it's  in  this  unsophisticated  state,  it  is 
easy  enough  to  see  the  arrangement  of  the  interior,  and 
the  part  borne  by  the  milk  in  the  development  and  growth 
of  the  mature  nut.  The  ordinary  tropical  way  of  opening 
coco-nuts  for  table,  indeed,  is  by  cutting  off  the  top  of  the 
shell  and  rind  in  successive  slices,  at  the  end  where  the 
three  pores  are  situated,  until  you  reach  tlu;  level  of  iha 
water,  which  fills  up  the  whole  intc'rior.  The  nutty  part 
around  the  inside  of  the  shell  is  then  extremely  soft  and 
jelly-like,  so  that  it  can  be  readily  eaten  with  a  spoon  ;  but 
as  a  matter  of  fact  very  f^w  people  ever  do  eat  the  flesk  at 
all.  After  their  first  few  months  in  the  tropics,  they  lose 
the  taste  for  this  comparatively  indigestible  part,  and  con- 
fine themselves  entirely  (like  patients  at  a  (ierman  spa)  to 
drinking  the  water.  A  young  coco-nut  is  thus  seen  to 
consist,  first  of  a  green  outer  skin,  then  of  a  fibrous  coat, 
which  afterwards  becomes  the  hair,  and  next  of  a  harder 
shell  which  finally  gets  quite  woody  ;  while  inside  all  comes 
the  actual  seed  or  unripe  nut  itself.     The  office  of  the  coco- 


180  THE  MILK  IN  THE  COCO-NUT 

nut  water  is  the  deposition  of  the  nutty  part  around  the 
side  of  the  shell ;  it  is,  so  to  speak,  the  mother  liquid,  from 
which  the  harder  eatable  portion  is  afterwards  derived. 
This  state  is  not  uncommon  in  embryo  seeds.  In  a  very 
young  pea,  for  example,  the  inside  is  quite  watery,  and  only 
the  outer  skin  is  at  all  solid,  as  we  have  all  observed  when 
green  peas  first  come  into  season.  But  the  special  pecu- 
liarity of  the  coco-nut  consists  in  the  fact  that  this  liquid 
condition  of  the  interior  continues  even  after  the  nut  is 
ripe,  and  that  is  the  really  curious  point  about  the  milk  in 
the  coco-nut  which  does  actually  need  accounting  for. 

In  order  to  understand  it  one  ought  to  examine  a  coco- 
nut in  the  act  of  budding,  and  to  do  this  it  is  by  no  means 
necessary  to  visit  the  West  Indies  or  the  Pacific  Islands  ; 
all  you  need  to  do  is  to  ask  a  Covent  Garden  fruit  salesman 
to  get  you  a  few  '  growers.'  On  the  voyage  to  England,  a 
certain  number  of  precocious  coco-nuts,  stimulated  by  the 
congenial  warmth  and  damp  of  most  shipliolds,  usually 
begin  to  sprout  before  their  time  ;  and  these  waste  nuts 
are  sold  by  the  dealers  at  a  low  rate  to  East-end  children 
and  inquiring  botanists.  An  examination  of  a  *  grower  ' 
very  soon  convinces  one  what  is  the  use  of  the  milk  in  the 
coco-nut. 

It  must  be  duly  borne  in  mind,  to  begin  with,  that  the 
prime  end  p.nd  object  of  the  nut  is  not  to  be  eaten  raw  by 
the  ingenious  monkey,  or  to  be  converted  by  lordly  man 
into  coco-nut  biscuits,  or  coco-nut  pudding,  but  simply  and 
solely  to  reproduce  the  coco-nut  palm  in  sufficient  numbers 
to  future  generations.  For  this  purpose  the  nut  has 
slowly  acquired  by  natural  selection  a  number  of  protec- 
tive defences  against  its  numerous  enemies,  which  serve  to 
guard  it  admirably  in  the  native  state  from  almost  all 
possible  animal  depredators.  First  of  all,  the  actual  nut 
or  seed  itself  consists  of  a  tiny  embryo  plant,  placed  just 


THE  MILK  IN  THE  COCO-NUT  181 

inside  the  softest  of  the  three  pores  or  p  ts  at  the  end  of 
the  shell,  and  surrounded  by  a  vast  quantity  of  nutritious 
pulp,  destined  to  feed  and  support  it  during  its  earliest  un- 
protected days,  if  not  otherwise  diverted  by  man  or  monkey. 
But  as  whatever  feeds  a  young  plant  will  also  feed  an 
animal,  and  as  many  animals  betray  a  felonious  desire  to 
appropriate  to  their  own  wicked  ends  the  food-stuffs  laid 
up  by  the  palm  for  the  use  of  its  own  seedling,  the  coco- 
nut has  been  compelled  to  inclose  this  particularly  large 
and  rich  kernel  in  a  very  sohd  and  defensive  shell.  And, 
once  more,  since  the  palm  grows  at  a  very  great  height 
from  the  ground — I  have  seen  them  up  to  ninety  feet  in 
favourable  circumstances — this  shell  stands  a  very  good 
chance  of  getting  broken  in  tumbling  to  the  earth,  so  that 
it  has  been  necessary  to  surround  it  with  a  mass  of  soft 
and  yielding  fibrons  material,  which  breaks  its  fall,  and 
acts  as  a  bufi'er  to  it  when  it  comes  in  contact  with  the 
soil  beneath.  So  many  protections  has  the  coco-nut  gra- 
dually devised  for  itself  by  the  continuous  survival  of  the 
best  adapted  amid  numberless  and  endless  spontaneous 
variations  of  all  its  kind  in  pc  st  time. 

Now,  when  the  coco-nut  has  actually  reached  the 
ground  at  last,  and  proceeds  to  sprout  in  the  spot  where 
chance  (perhaps  in  the  bodily  shape  of  a  disappointed  mon- 
key) has  chosen  to  cast  it,  these  numerous  safeguards  and 
solid  envelopes  naturally  begin  to  prove  decided  nuisances 
to  the  embryo  within.  It  starts  under  the  great  disadvan- 
tage of  being  hermetically  sealed  within  a  solid  wooden 
shell,  so  that  no  water  can  possibly  get  at  it  to  aid  it  as 
most  other  seeds  are  aided  in  the  process  of  germination. 
Fancy  yourself  a  seed-pea,  anxious  to  sprout,  but  coated 
all  round  with  a  hard  covering  of  impermeable  sealing- 
wax,  and  you  will  be  in  a  position  faintly  to  appreciate 
the  unfortunate  predicament  of  a  grower  coco-nut.  Natural 


182  THE  MILK  IN  THE  COCO-TsUT 

selection,   however — that   deus  ex    machina  of   modern 
Bcience,  which  can  perform  such  endless  wonders,  if  only 
you  give  it  time  enough  to  work  in  and  variations  enough  to 
work  upon — natural  selection  has  come  to  the  rescue  of  the 
unhappy  plant  by  leaving  it  a  little  hole  at  the  top  of  the 
shell,  out  of  which  it  can  push  its  feathery  green  head 
without  difficulty.     Everybody  knows  that  if  you  look  at 
the  sharp  end  of  a  coco-nut  you  will  see  three  little  brown 
pits  or  depressions  on  its  surface.      Most  people  also  know 
that  two  of  these  are  firmly  stopped  up  (for  a  reason  to 
which  I  shall  presently  recur),  but  that  the  third  one  is 
only  closed  by  a  slight  film  or  very  thin  shell,  which  can 
be  easily  bored  through  with  a  pocket  knife,  so  as  to  let 
the  milk  run  oif  before  cracking  the  shell.      So  much  we 
have  all  learnt  during  our  ardent  pursuit  of  natural  know- 
ledge on  half-holidays  in  early  life.     But  we  probably  then 
failed  to  observe  that  just  opposite  this  soft  hole  lies  a 
small  roundish   knob,  imbedded  in   the  pulp  or  eatable 
portion,  which  knob  is  in  fact  the  embryo  palm  or  seedling, 
for  whose  ultimate  benefit  the  whole  arrangement  (in  brown 
and  green)  has  been  invented.   That  is  very  much  the  way 
with  man:  he  notices  what  concerns  his  own   appetite, 
and  omits  all  the  really  important  parts  of  the  whole  sub- 
ject.   We  think  the  use  of  the  hole  is  to  let  out  the  milk  ;  but 
the  nut  knows  that  its  real  object  is  to  let  out  the  seedling. 
The  knob  grows  out  at  last  into  the  young  plantlet,  and  it 
is  by  means  of  the  soft  hole  that  it  makes  its  escape  through 
the  shell  to  the  air  and  the  sunshine  which  it  seeks  without. 
This  brings  us  really  down  at  last  to  the  true  raison 
d'etre  for  the  milk  in  the  coco-nut.     As  the  seed  or  kernel 
cannot  easily  get  at  much  water  from  outside,  it  has  a  good 
Bupply  of  water  laid  up  for  it  ready  beforehand  within  its 
own  encircling  shell.     The  mother  liquid  from  which  the 
pulp  or  nutty  part  has  been  deposited  remains  in  the  centre, 


THE  MILK  IN  THE  COCO-NUT  183 

as  the  milk,  till  the  tiny  embryo  begins  to  sprout.  As 
soon  as  it  does  so,  the  little  knob  which  was  at  first  so 
very  small  enlarges  rapidly  and  absorbs  the  water,  till  it 
grows  out  into  a  big  spongy  cellular  mass,  which  at  last 
almost  fills  up  the  entire  shell.  At  the  same  time,  its 
other  end  pushes  its  way  out  through  the  soft  hole,  and 
then  gives  birth  to  a  growing  bud  at  the  top — the  future 
stem  and  leaves — and  to  a  number  of  long  threads  beneath 
— the  future  roots.  Meanwhile,  the  spongy  mass  inside 
begins  gradually  to  absorb  all  the  nutty  part,  using  up  its 
oils  and  starches  for  the  purpose  of  feeding  the  young 
plant  above,  until  it  is  of  an  age  to  expand  its  leaves  to 
the  open  tropical  sunlight  and  shift  for  itself  in  the  struggle 
for  life.  It  seems  at  first  sight  very  hard  to  understand 
how  any  tissue  so  solid  as  the  pulp  of  coco-nut  can  be  thus 
softened  and  absorbed  without  any  visible  cause ;  but  in 
the  subtle  chemistry  of  living  vegetation  such  a  transfor- 
mation is  comparatively  simple  and  easy  to  perform. 
Nature  sometimes  works  much  greater  miracles  than  this 
in  the  same  way  :  for  example,  what  is  called  vegetable 
ivory,  a  substance  so  solid  that  it  can  be  carved  or  turned 
only  with  great  difficulty,  is  really  the  kernel  of  another 
palm-nut,  allied  to  the  coco-palm,  and  its  very  stony  par- 
ticles are  all  similarly  absorbed  during  germination  by  the 
dissolving  power  of  the  young  seedlinj^. 

Why,  however,  has  the  coco-nut  three  pores  at  the  top 
instead  of  one,  and  why  are  two  out  of  the  three  so  care- 
fully and  firmly  sealed  up  ?  The  explanation  of  this 
strange  peculiarity  is  only  to  be  found  in  the  ancestral 
history  of  the  coco-nut  kind.  Most  nuts,  indeed,  start  in 
their  earlier  stage  as  if  they  meant  to  produce  two  or  more 
seeds  each  ;  but  as  they  ripen,  all  the  seeds  except  one 
become  abortive.  The  almond,  for  example,  has  in  the 
flower  two  seeds  or  kernels  to  each  nut ;  but  in  the  ripe 


184  THE  MILK  IN  THE  COCO-NUT 

state  there  is  generally  only  one,  though  occasionally  we 
find  an  almond  with  two — a  philipa?na,  as  we  commonly 
call  it — ^just  to  keep  in  memory  the  original  arrangement 
of  its  earlier  ancestors.  The  reason  for  this  is  that  plants 
whose  fruits  have  no  special  protection  for  their  seeds  are 
obliged  to  produce  a  great  many  of  them  at  once,  in  order 
that  one  seed  in  a  thousand  may  finally  survive  the  on- 
slaughts of  their  Argus-eyed  enemies ;  but  when  they  learn 
to  protect  themselves  by  hard  coverings  from  birds  and 
beasts,  they  can  dispense  with  some  of  these  supernumerary 
seeds,  and  put  more  nutriment  into  each  one  of  those  that 
they  still  retain.  Compare,  for  example,  the  innumerable 
small  round  seedlets  of  the  poppyhead  with  tlie  solitary 
large  and  richly  stored  seed  of  the  walnut,  or  the  tiny  black 
specks  of  mustard  and  cress  with  the  single  compact  and 
well-filled  seed  of  the  filbert  and  the  acorn.  To  the  very 
end,  however,  most  nuts  begin  in  the  flower  as  if  they 
meant  to  produce  a  whole  capsuleful  of  small  unstored  and 
unprotected  seeds,  like  their  original  ancestors  ;  it  is  only 
at  the  last  moment  that  they  recollect  themselves,  suppress 
all  their  ovules  except  one,  and  store  that  one  with  all  the 
best  and  cihest  food-stuffs  at  their  disposal.  The  nuts,  in 
fact,  have  learned  by  long  experience  that  it  is  better  to  be 
the  only  son  and  heir  of  a  wealthy  house,  set  up  in  life 
with  a  good  capital  to  begin  upon,  than  to  be  one  of  a  poor 
family  of  thirteen  needy  and  unprovided  children. 

Now,  the  coco-nuts  are  descended  from  a  great  tribe — 
the  palms  and  lilies — which  have  as  their  main  distinguish- 
ing peculiarity  the  arrangement  of  parts  in  their  flowers 
and  fruits  by  threes  each.  For  example,  in  the  most 
typical  flowers  of  this  great  group,  there  are  three  green 
outer  calyx-pieces,  three  bright-coloured  petals,  three  long 
outer  stamens,  three  short  inner  stamens,  three  valves  to 
the  capsule,  and  three  seeds  or  three  rows  of  seeds  in  each 


THE  MILK  IN  THE  COCO-NUT  185 

fruit.  Many  palms  still  keep  pretty  well  to  this  primitive 
arrangement,  but  a  few  of  them  which  have  specially  pro- 
tected or  highly  developed  fruits  or  nuts  have  lost  in  their 
later  stages  the  threefold  disposition  in  the  fruit,  and  possess 
only  one  seed,  often  a  very  large  one.  There  is  no  better 
and  more  typical  nut  in  the  whole  world  than  a  coco-nut 
—  that  is  to  say,  from  our  present  point  of  view  at  least, 
though  the  fear  of  that  awful  person,  the  botanical  Smel- 
fungus,  compels  me  to  add  that  this  is  not  quite  technically 
true.  Smelfungus,  indeed,  would  insist  upon  it  that  the 
coco-nut  is  not  a  nut  at  all,  and  would  thrill  us  with  the 
delightful  information,  innocently  conveyed  in  that  dehcious 
dialect  of  which  he  is  so  great  a  master,  that  it  is  really 
*  a  drupaceous  fruit  with  a  fibrous  mesocarp.'  Still,  in 
spite  of  Smelfungus  with  his  nice  hair-splitting  distinctions, 
it  remains  true  that  humanity  at  large  will  still  call  a  nut 
a  nut,  and  that  the  coco-nut  is  the  highest  kno^vn  develop- 
ment of  the  peculiar  nutty  tactics.  It  has  the  largest  and 
most  richly  stored  seed  of  any  known  plant  ;  and  this  seed 
is  surrounded  by  one  of  the  hardest  and  most  unmanage- 
able of  any  known  shells.  Hence  the  coco-nut  has  readily 
been  able  to  dispense  with  the  three  kernels  which  each 
nut  used  in  its  earlier  and  less  developed  days  to  produce. 
But  though  the  palm  has  thus  taken  to  reducing  the 
number  of  its  seeds  in  each  fruit  to  the  lowest  possible 
point  consistent  with  its  continued  existence  at  all,  it  still 
goes  on  retaining  many  signs  of  its  ancient  threefold  ar- 
rangement. The  ancestral  and  most  deeply  ingrained 
habits  persist  in  the  earlier  stages  ;  it  is  only  in  the  mature 
form  that  the  later  acquired  habits  begin  fully  to  pre- 
dominate. Even  so  our  own  boys  pass  through  an  es- 
Bentially  savage  childhood  of  ogres  and  fairies,  bows  and 
arrows,  sugar-plums  and  barbaric  nursery  tales,  as  well  as 
a  romantic  boyhood  of  mediaeval  chivalry  and  adventure, 


186  THE  MILK  IN  THE  COCO-NUT 

before  they  steady  down  into  that  crowninj:?  Priory  of  our 
race,  the  soHd,  sober,  matter-of-fact,  commercial  British 
Phihstine.  Hence  the  coco-nut  in  its  unstripped  state  is 
roughly  triangular  in  form,  its  angles  answering  to  the 
separate  three  fruits  of  simpler  palms  ;  and  it  has  three 
pits  or  weak  places  in  the  shell,  through  wliicli  the  em- 
bryos of  the  three  original  kernels  used  to  force  their  way 
out.  But  as  only  one  of  them  is  now  needed,  that  one 
alone  is  left  soft ;  the  other  two,  which  would  be  merely 
a  source  of  weakness  to  the  plant  if  unprotected,  are 
covered  in  the  existing  nut  by  harder  shell.  Doubtless 
they  serve  in  part  to  deceive  the  too  inquisitive  monkey  or 
other  enemy,  who  probably  concludes  that  if  one  of  the 
pits  is  hard  and  impermeable,  the  other  two  are  so  like- 
wise. 

Though  I  have  now,  I  hope,  satisfactorily  accounted 
for  the  milk  in  the  coco-nut,  and  incidentally  for  some 
other  matters  in  its  economy  as  well,  I  am  loth  to  leave  the 
young  seedling  whom  I  have  brought  so  far  on  his  way  to 
the  tender  mercies  of  the  winds  and  storms  and  tropical 
animals,  some  of  whom  are  extremely  fond  of  his  juicy  and 
delicate  shoots.  Indeed,  the  growing  point  or  bud  of  most 
palms  is  a  very  pleasant  succulent  vegetable,  and  one  kind 
— the  West  Indian  mountain  cabbage— deserves  a  better 
and  more  justly  descriptive  name,  for  it  is  really  much  more 
like  seakale  or  asparagus.  I  shall  try  to  follow  our  young 
seedling  on  in  life,  therefore,  so  as  to  give,  while  I  am  about 
it,  a  fairly  comprehensive  and  complete  biography  of  a  single 
flourishing  coco-nut  palm. 

Beginning,  then,  with  the  fall  of  the  nut  from  the 
parent-tree,  the  troubles  of  the  future  palm  confront  it  at 
once  in  the  shape  of  the  nut-eating  crab.  This  evil- 
disposed  crustacean  is  common  around  the  sea-coast  of 
the   eastern   tropical  islands,  which  is  also   the    region 


THE  MILK  IN  TUE  COCO-NUT  187 

mainly  affected  by  the  coco-nut  palm;  for  cojo-nuts  are 
essentially  shore-lovinf?  trees,  and  thrive  best  in  the  im- 
mediate neighbourhood  of  the   sea.       Amonf,   the   fallen 
nuts,  the  clumsy-looking  thief  of  a  crab  (his  appropriate 
Latin  name  is  Birgus  latro)  makes  great  and  dreaded  havoc. 
To  assist  him  in  his  unlawful  object  he  has  developed  a 
pair  of  front  legs,  with  specially  strong  and  heavy  claws, 
supplemented  by  a  last  or  tail-end  piiir  armed  only  with  very 
narrow  and  slender  pincers.     He  subsists  entirely  upon  a 
coco-nut  diet.    Setting  to  work  upon  a  big  fallen  nut — with 
the  husk  on,  coco-nuts  measure  in  the  raw  state  about  twelve 
inches  the  long  way — he  tears  off  all  the  coarse  fibre  bit  by 
bit,  and  gets  down  at  last  to  the  hard  shell.     Then  he 
hammers  away  with  his  heavy  claw  on  the  softest  eye-hole 
till  he  has  pounded  an  opening  right  through  it.    This  done 
he  twists  round  his  body  so  as  to  turn  his  back  upon  the 
coco-nut  he  is  operating  upon   (crabs  are  never  famous 
either  for  good  manners  or  gracefulness)  and  proceeds 
awkwardly  but  effectually  to  extract  all  the  white  kernel  or 
pulp  through  the   breach  with  his   narrow   pair  of  hind 
pincers.     Like  man,  too,  the  robber-crab  knows  the  value 
of  the  outer  husk  as  well  as  of  the  eatable  nut  itself,  for 
he  collects  the  fibre  in  surprising   quantities   to  line  his 
burrow,  and  lies  upon  it,  the  clumsy  sybarite,  for  a  luxurious 
couch.      Alas,  however,  for  the  helplessness  of  crabs,  and 
the  rapacity  and  cunning  of  all -appropriating  man  !     The 
spoil-sport  Malay  digs  up  the  nest  for  the  sake  of  the  fibre 
it  contains,  which  spares  him  the  trouble  of  picking  junk 
on  his  own  account,  and  then  he  eats  the  industrious  crab 
who  has  laid  it  all  up,  while  he  melts  down  the  great  lump 
of  fat  under  the  robber's  capacious  tail,  and  sometimes  gets 
from  it  as  much  as  a  good  quart  of  what  may  be  practically 
considered  as  limpid  coco-nut  oil.     Sic  vos  nun  vohis  is 
certainly  the   melancholy  refrain   of  all  natural  history. 
13 


188  THE  MILK   IN  THE  COCO-NUT 

The  coco-nut  palm  intends  the  oil  for  the  nourishment  of 
its  own  seedlinf^ ;  the  crab  feloniously  appropriates  it  and 
stores  it  up  under  his  capacious  tail  for  future  personal  use ; 
the  Malay  steals  it  again  from  the  thief  for  his  own  pur- 
poses ;  and  ten  to  one  the  Dutch  or  English  merchant 
beguiles  it  from  him  with  sized  calico  or  poisoned  rum,  and 
transmits  it  to  Europe,  whore  it  serves  to  lighten  our  nights 
and  assist  at  our  matutinal  tub,  to  point  a  moral  and  adorn 
the  present  tale. 

If,  however,  our  coco-nut  is  lucky  enough  to  escape  the 
robber-crabs,  the  pigs,  and  the  monkeys,  as  well  as  to  avoid 
falling  into  the  hands  of  man,  and  being  converted  into 
the  copra  of  commerce,  or  sold  from  a  costermonger's 
barrow  in  the  chilly  streets  of  ungenial  London  at  a  penny 
a  slice,  it  may  very  probably  succeed  in  germinating  after 
the  fashion  I  have  already  described,  and  pushing  up  its 
head  through  the  surrounding  fohage  to  the  sunlight  above. 
As  a  rule,  the  coco-nut  has  been  dropped  by  its  mother  tree 
on  the  sandy  soil  of  a  sea -beach ;  and  this  is  the  spot  it 
best  loves,  and  where  it  grows  to  the  stateliest  height. 
Sometimes,  however,  it  falls  into  the  sea  itself,  and  then 
the  loose  husk  buoys  it  up,  so  that  it  floats  away  bravely 
till  it  is  cast  by  the  waves  upon  some  distant  coral  reef  or 
desert  island.  It  is  this  power  of  floating  and  surviving 
a  long  voyage  that  has  dispersed  the  coco-nut  so  widely 
among  oceanic  islands,  where  so  few  plants  are  generally 
to  be  found.  Indeed,  on  many  atolls  or  isolated  reefs  (for 
example,  on  Keeling  Island)  it  is  the  only  tree  or  shrub 
that  grows  in  any  quantity,  and  on  it  the  pigs,  the  poultry, 
the  ducks,  and  the  land  crabs  of  the  place  entirely  subsist. 
In  any  case,  wherever  it  happens  to  strike,  the  young  coco- 
nut sends  up  at  first  a  fine  rosette  of  big  spreading  leaves, 
not  raised  as  afterwards  on  a  tall  stem,  but  springing  direct 
from  the  ground  in  a  wide  circle,  something  like  a  very  big 


THE  MILK   IN  THE  COCO-NUT  189 

and  graceful  fern.  In  this  early  stage  nothing  can  be  more 
beautiful  or  more  essentially  tropical  in  appearance  than  a 
plantation  of  young  coco-nuts.  Their  long  feathery  leaves 
spreading  out  in  great  clumps  from  the  buried  stock,  and 
waving  with  lithe  motion  before  the  strong  sea-breeze  of 
the  Indies,  are  the  very  embodiment  of  tlioso  Teceptive 
ideal  tropics  which,  alas,  are  to  be  found  in  actual  reality 
nowhere  on  earth  save  in  the  artificial  palm-houses  at  Kew, 
and  the  Casino  Gardens  at  too  entrancing  Monte  Carlo. 

For  the  first  two  or  three  years  the  young  palms  must 
be  well  watered,  and  the  soil  around  them  opened  ;  after 
which  the  tall  graceful  stem  begins  to  rise  rapidly  into  the 
open  air.  In  this  condit'on  it  may  be  literally  said  to  make 
the  tropics — those  fallacious  tropics,  I  mean,  cf  painters 
and  poets,  of  Enoch  Arden  and  of  Locksley  Hall.  You 
may  observe  that  whenever  an  artist  wants  to  make  a 
tropical  picture,  he  puts  a  group  of  coco-nut  palms  in  the 
foreground,  as  much  as  to  say,  '  You  see  there's  no  decep- 
tion ;  these  are  the  genuine  unadulterated  tropics.'  But 
as  to  painting  the  tropics  witaout  the  palms,  he  might  just 
as  well  think  of  painting  the  desert  without  the  camels. 
At  eight  or  ten  years  old  the  tree  flowers,  bearing  blossoms 
of  the  ordinary  palm  type,  degraded  likenesses  of  the  lilies 
and  yuccas,  greenish  anu  inconspicuous,  but  visited  by  in- 
sects for  the  sake  of  their  pollen.  The  flower,  however,  is 
fertilised  by  the  wind,  which  carries  the  pollen  grains  from 
one  bunch  of  blossoms  to  another.  Then  the  nuts  gradually 
swell  out  to  an  enormous  size,  and  ripen  very  slowly,  even 
under  the  brilliant  tropical  sun .  (I  will  admit  that  the  tropics 
are  hot,  though  in  other  respects  I  hold  them  to  be  arrant 
impostors,  like  that  precocious  American  youth  who 
announced  on  his  tenth  birthday  that  in  his  opinion  life 
wasn't  all  that  it  was  cracked  up  to  be.)  But  the  worst 
thing  about  the  coco-nut  palm,  the  missionaries   always 


190  THE  MIT-K   IN  THE  COCO-NUT 

Bay,  is  the  fatal  fact  that,  when  onco  fairly  started,  it  goea 
on  bearing  fruit  uninterruptedly  for  forty  years.  This  is 
very  immoral  and  wrong  of  the  ill-conditioned  tree,  because 
it  encourages  the  idyllic  Polynesian  to  lie  under  the  palms 
all  day  long,  cooling  his  limbs  in  the  8e&  occasionally, 
sporting  with  Amaryllis  in  the  shade,  or  with  the  tangles 
of  Neffira's  hair,  and  waiting  for  the  nuts  to  drop  down  in 
due  time,  when  he  ought  (according  to  European  notions) 
to  be  killing  himself  with  hard  work  under  a  blazing  sky, 
raising  cotton,  sugar,  indigo,  and  coffee,  for  the  immediate 
benefit  of  the  white  merchant,  and  the  ultimate  advantage 
of  the  British  public.  It  doesn't  enforce  habits  of  steady 
industry  and  perseverance,  the  good  missionaries  say ;  it 
doesn't  induce  the  native  to  feel  that  burning  desire  for 
Manchester  piece-goods  and  the  other  blessings  of  civilisa- 
tion which  ought  properly  to  accompany  the  propagation  of 
the  missionary  in  foreign  parts.  You  stick  your  nut  in 
the  sand  ;  you  sit  by  a  few  years  and  watch  it  growing ; 
you  pick  up  the  ripe  fruits  as  they  fall  from  the  tree ;  and  you 
sell  th^m  at  last  for  illimitable  red  cloth  to  the  Manchester 
piece-goods  merchant.  Nothing  could  be  more  simple  or 
more  satisfactory.  And  yet  it  is  difficult  to  see  the  precise 
moral  distinction  between  the  owner  of  a  coco-nut  grove  in 
the  South  Sea  Islands  and  the  owner  of  a  codl-mine  or  a 
big  estate  in  commercial  England.  Each  lounges  deco- 
rously through  life  after  his  own  fashion  ;  only  the  one 
lounges  in  a  Russia  leather  chair  at  a  club  in  Pall  Mall, 
while  the  other  lounges  in  a  nice  soft  dust-heap  beside  a 
rolling  surf  in  Tahiti  or  the  Hawaiian  Archipelago. 

Curiously  enough,  at  a  little  distance  from  the  sandy 
levels  or  alluvial  flats  of  the  sea-shore,  the  sea-loving  coco- 
nut will  not  bring  its  nuts  to  perfection.  It  will  grow, 
indeed,  but  it  will  not  thrive  or  fruit  in  due  season.  On 
the  coast-line  of  Southern  India,  immense  groves  of  coco- 


THE  MILK   IN  THE  COCO-NUT  191 

nuts  fringe  the  shore  for  miles  and  miles  together ;  and  in 
Bome  parts,  as  in  Travancore,  they  form  the  chief  agri- 
cultural staple  of  the  ^vhole  country.  '  The  State  has  henco 
facetiously  been  called  Coconutcore,'  says  its  historian  ; 
which  charmingly  illustrates  the  true  Anglo-Indian  notion 
of  what  constitutes  facetiousness,  nnd  ought  to  strike  the 
last  nail  into  the  coffin  of  a  competitive  examination  system. 
A  good  tree  in  full  bearing  should  produce  120  coco-nuts 
in  a  season  ;  so  that  a  very  small  grove  is  quite  sufficient 
to  maintain  a  respectable  family  in  decency  and  comfort. 
Ah,  what  a  mistake  the  English  climate  made  when  it  left 
off  its  primitive  warmth  of  the  tertiary  period,  and  got 
chilled  by  the  ice  and  snow  of  the  Glacial  Epoch  down  to  its 
present  misty  and  dreary  wheat-growing  condition  !  If  it 
were  not  for  that,  those  odious  habits  of  steady  industry 
and  perseverance  might  never  have  been  developed  in  our- 
selves at  all,  and  we  might  be  lazily  picking  copra  off  our 
own  coco-palms,  to  this  day,  to  export  in  return  for  the 
piece-goods  of  some  Arctic  Manchester  situated  some- 
where about  the  north  of  Spitzbergen  or  the  New  Siberian 
Islands. 

Even  as  things  stand  at  the  present  day,  however,  it  is 
wonderful  bow  much  use  we  modern  Englishmen  now 
make  in  our  own  houses  of  this  far  Eastern  nut,  whose 
very  name  still  bears  upon  its  face  the  impress  of  its 
originally  savage  origin.  From  morning  to  night  we  never 
leave  off  being  indebted  to  it.  We  wash  with  it  as  old 
brown  Windsor  or  glycerine  soap  the  moment  we  leave  our 
beds.  We  walk  across  our  passages  on  the  mats  made 
from  its  fibre.  We  sweep  our  rooms  with  its  brushes,  and 
wipe  our  feet  on  it  as  we  enter  our  doors.  As  rope,  it  ties 
up  our  trunks  and  packages  ;  in  the  hands  of  the  house- 
maid it  scrubs  our  floors  ;  or  else,  woven  into  coarse  cloth, 
it  acts  as  a  covering  for  bales  and  furniture  sent  by  rail  or 


192  THE  MILK  IN  THE  COCO-NUT 

steamboat.  The  confcctionor  undermines  our  digestion  in 
early  life  with  coco-nut  candy  ;  the  cook  tempts  us  later 
on  with  coco-nut  cake  ;  and  Messrs.  Huntley  and  Palmer 
cordially  invite  us  to  complete  the  ruin  with  coco-nut 
biscuits.  We  anoint  our  chapped  hands  with  one  of  its 
preparations  after  washing ;  and  grease  the  wheels  of  our 
carriages  with  another  to  make  them  run  smoothly.  Finally, 
we  use  the  oil  to  burn  in  our  reading  lamps,  and  light  our- 
selves at  last  to  bed  with  stearine  candles.  Altogether,  an 
amateur  census  of  a  single  small  English  cottage  results  in 
the  startling  discovery  that  it  contains  twenty-seven  distinct 
articles  which  owe  their  origin  in  one  way  or  another  to 
the  coco-nut  palm.  And  yet  we  affect  in  our  black  in- 
gratitude to  despise  the  questioa  of  the  milk  in  the  coco- 
nut. 


FOOD  AND  FEEDING  193 


FOOD  AND  FEEDING 

When  a  man  and  a  bear  meet  together  casually  in  an 
American  forest,  it  makes  a  great  deal  of  diifereuce,  to  the 
two  parties  concerned  at  least,  whether  the  bear  eats  the 
man  or  the  man  eats  the  bear.  We  haven't  the  slightest 
difficulty  in  deciding  afterwards  which  of  the  two,  in  each 
particular  case,  has  been  the  eater,  and  which  the  eaten. 
Here,  we  say,  is  the  grizzly  that  eat  the  man ;  or,  here  is 
the  man  that  smoked  and  dined  off  the  hams  of  the  grizzly. 
Basing  our  opinion  upon  such  familiar  and  well-known 
instances,  we  are  apt  to  take  it  for  granted  far  too  readily 
that  between  eating  and  being  eaten,  between  the  active 
and  the  passive  voice  of  the  verb  eclo,  there  exists  neces- 
sarily a  profound  and  impassable  native  antitliesis.  To 
swallow  an  oyster  is,  in  our  own  personal  histories,  so  very 
different  a  thing  from  being  swallowed  by  a  shark  that  we 
can  hardly  realise  at  first  the  underlying  fundamental 
identity  of  eating  with  mere  coalescence.  And  yet,  at  the 
very  outset  of  the  art  of  feeding,  when  the  nascent  animal 
first  began  to  indulge  in  this  very  essential  animal  practice, 
one  may  fairly  gay  that  no  practical  difference  as  yet 
existed  between  the  creature  that  ate  and  the  creature  that 
was  eaten.  After  the  man  and  the  bear  had  finished  their 
little  meal,  if  one  may  be  frankly  metaphorical,  it  was  im- 
possible to  decide  whether  the  remaining  being  was  the 
man  or  the  bear,  or  which  of  the  two  had  swallowed  the 


194  FOOD  AND   FEEDING 

other.  The  dinner  liaving  been  purely  miitnai,  the  result- 
ing animal  represented  both  the  litigants  equally  ;  just  as, 
in  cannibal  New  Zealand,  tlie  chief  who  ate  up  his  brother 
chief  was  held  naturally  to  inherit  the  goods  and  chattels 
of  the  vanquished  and  absorbed  rival,  wliom  he  had  thus 
literally  and  physically  incorporated. 

A  jelly-speck,  floating  about  at  his  ease  in  a  drop  of 
stagnant  water  under  the  field  of  a  microscope,  collides 
accidentally  with  another  jelly-speck  who  happens  to  be 
travelling  in  the  opposite  direction  across  the  same  minia- 
ture ocean.  What  thereupon  occurs  ?  One  jelly-speck 
rolls  itself  gradually  into  the  other,  so  that,  instead  of  two, 
there  is  now  one ;  and  the  united  body  proceeds  to  float 
away  quite  unconcernedly,  without  waiting  to  trouble  itself 
for  a  second  with  tho  profound  metaphysical  question, 
which  half  of  it  is  the  original  personality,  and  which  half 
the  devoured  and  digested.  In  these  minute  and  very 
simple  animals  there  is  absolutely  no  division  of  labour 
between  part  and  part ;  every  bit  of  the  jelly-like  mass  is 
alike  head  and  foot  and  mouth  and  stomach.  The  jelly- 
speck  has  no  permanent  limbs,  but  it  keeps  putting  forth 
vague  arms  and  legs  every  now  and  then  from  one  side  or 
the  other ;  and  with  these  temporary  and  ever-dissolving 
members  it  crawls  along  merrily  through  its  tiny  drop  of 
stagnant  water.  If  two  of  the  legs  or  arms  happen  to 
knock  up  casually  against  one  another,  they  coalesce  at 
once,  just  like  two  drops  of  water  on  a  window-pane,  or 
two  strings  of  treacle  slowly  spreading  along  the  surface  of 
a  platd.  When  the  jelly- speck  meets  any  edible  thing — 
a  bit  of  dead  plant,  a  wee  creature  like  itself,  a  microscopic 
egg — it  proceeds  to  fold  its  own  substance  slimily  around 
it,  making,  as  it  were,  a  temporary  mouth  for  the  purpose 
of  swallowing  it,  and  a  temporary  stomach  for  the  purpose 
of  quietly  digesting  and  assimilating  it  afterwards.    Thus 


FOOD  AND  FEEDING  195 

■what  at  one  moment  is  a  foot  may  at  the  next  moment 
become  a  mouth,  and  at  the  moment  after  that  again  a 
rudimentary  stomach.  The  animal  has  no  skin  and  no 
body,  no  outside  and  no  inside,  no  distinction  of  parts  or 
members,  no  individuahty,  no  identity.  Roll  it  up  into 
one  with  another  of  its  kind,  and  it  couldn't  tell  you  itself 
a  minute  afterwards  w^hich  of  the  two  it  had  really  been  a 
minute  before.  The  question  of  personal  identity  is  here 
considerably  mixed. 

But  as  soon  as  we  get  to  rather  larger  creatures  of  the 
same  type,  the  antithesis  between  the  eater  and  the  eaten 
begins  to  assume  a  more  definite  character.  The  big  jelly- 
bag  approaches  a  good  many  smaller  jelly-bags,  microscopic 
plants,  and  other  appropriate  food-stuffs,  and,  surrounding 
them  rapidly  with  its  crawling  arms,  envelopes  them  in  its 
own  substance,  which  closes  behind  them  and  gradually 
digests  them.  Everybody  knows,  by  name  at  least,  that 
revolutionary  and  evolutionary  hero,  the  amoeba — the 
terror  of  theologians,  the  pet  of  professors,  and  the  in- 
sufferable bore  of  the  general  reader.  Well,  this  parlous 
and  subversive  little  animal  consists  of  a  comparatively 
large  mass  of  soft  jelly,  pushing  forth  slender  lobes,  like 
threads  or  fingers,  from  its  own  substance,  and  gliding 
about,  by  means  of  these  tiny  legs,  over  water-plants  and 
other  submerged  surfaces.  But  though  it  can  literally  turn 
itself  inside  out,  like  a  glove,  it  still  has  some  faint  be- 
ginnings of  a  mouth  and  stomach,  for  it  generally  takes 
in  food  and  absorbs  water  through  a  particular  part  of  its 
surface,  where  the  slimy  mass  of  its  body  is  thinnest. 
Thus  the  amceba  may  be  said  really  to  eat  and  drink, 
though  quite  devoid  of  any  special  organs  for  eating  or 
drinking. 

The  particular  point  to  which  I  wish  to  draw  attention 
,  here,  however,  is  this :  that  even  the  very  simplest  and 


196  FOOD  AND  FEEDING 

most  primitive  animals  do  discriminate  somehow  between 
what  is  eatable  and  what  isn't.  The  amcoba  has  no  eyes, 
no  nose,  no  mouth,  no  tonj^me,  no  nerves  of  taste,  no 
special  means  of  discrimination  of  any  kind ;  and  yet,  so 
long  as  it  meets  only  grains  of  sand  or  bits  of  shell,  it 
makes  no  effort  in  any  w;iy  to  swallow  them  ;  but,  the 
moment  it  comes  across  a  bit  of  material  tit  for  its  food,  it 
begins  at  once  to  spi'ead  its  clammy  fingers  around  the 
nutritious  morsel.  The  fact  is,  every  part  of  the  amoBba's 
body  apparently  possesses,  in  a  very  vague  form,  the  first 
beginnings  of  those  senses  which  in  us  are  specialised  and 
confined  to  a  single  spot.  And  it  is  because  of  the  light 
which  the  amceba  thus  incidentally  casts  upon  the  nature 
of  the  specialised  senses  in  higher  animals  that  I  have  ven- 
tured once  more  to  drag  out  of  the  private  life  of  his  native 
pond  that  already  too  notorious  and  obtrusive  rhizopod. 

With  us  lordly  human  beings,  at  the  extreme  opposite 
end  in  the  scale  of  being  from  the  microscopic  jelly-specks, 
the  art  of  feeding  and  the  mechanism  which  provides  for 
it  have  both  reached  a  very  high  state  of  advanced  perfec- 
tion. We  have  slowly  evolved  a  tongue  and  palate  on  the 
one  hand,  and  French  cooks  and  pate  de  fuie  gras  on  the 
other.  But  while  everybody  knows  practically  how  things 
taste  to  us,  and  which  things  respectively  we  like  and  dis- 
like, comparatively  few  people  ever  recognise  that  the  sense 
of  taste  is  not  merely  intended  as  a  source  of  gratification, 
but  serves  a  useful  purpose  in  our  bodily  economy,  in  in- 
forming us  what  we  ought  to  eat  and  what  to  refuse. 
Paradoxical  as  it  may  sound  at  first  to  most  people,  nice 
things  are,  in  the  main,  things  that  are  good  for  us,  and 
nasty  things  are  poisonous  or  otherwise  injurious.  That 
we  often  practically  find  the  exact  contrary  the  case  (alas!) 
is  due,  not  to  the  provisions  of  nature,  but  to  the  artificial 
surroundings  in  which  we  live,  and  to  the  cunning  way  in 


FOOD  AND   FEEDING  197 

wliicli  we  flavour  up  unwholesome  food,  so  as  to  deceive 
and  cajole  the  natural  palate.  Yet,  after  all,  it  is  a  pleasant 
gospel  that  what  we  like  is  really  good  for  us,  and,  when 
we  have  made  some  small  allowances  for  artificial  condi- 
tions, it  is  in  the  main  a  true  one  also. 

The  sense  of  taste,  which  in  the  lowest  animals  is  dif- 
fused equally  over  the  whole  frame,  is  in  ourselves  and 
other  higher  creatures  concentrated  in  a  special  part  of 
the  body,  namely  the  mouth,  where  the  food  about  to  be 
swallowed  is  chewed  and  otherwise  prepared  beforehand  for 
the  work  of  digestion.  Now  it  is,  of  course,  quite  clear 
that  some  sort  of  supervision  must  be  exercised  by  the 
body  over  the  kind  of  food  that  is  going  to  be  put  into  it. 
Common  experience  teaches  us  that  prussic  acid  and  pure 
opium  are  undesirable  food-stuiTs  in  large  quantities  ;  that 
raw  spirits,  petroleum,  and  red  lead  should  be  sparingly 
partaken  of  by  the  judicious  feeder  ;  and  that  even  green 
fruit,  the  bitter  end  of  cucumber,  and  the  berries  of  deadly 
nightshade  are  unsatisfactory  articles  of  diet  when  con- 
tinuously persisted  in.  If,  at  the  very  outset  of  our 
digestive  apparatus,  we  hadn't  a  sort  of  automatic  premoni- 
tory adviser  upon  the  kinds  of  food  we  ought  or  ought  not 
to  indulge  in,  we  sliould  naturally  commit  considerable 
imprudences  in  the  way  of  eating  and  drinking — even 
more  than  we  do  at  present.  Natural  selection  has  there- 
fore provided  us  with  a  fairly  efficient  guide  in  this  respect 
in  the  sense  of  taste,  which  is  placed  at  the  very  threshold, 
as  it  were,  of  our  digestive  mechanism.  It  is  the  duty  of 
taste  to  warn  us  against  uneatable  things,  and  to  recom- 
mend to  our  favourable  attention  eatable  and  wholesome 
ones ;  and,  on  the  whole,  in  spite  of  small  occasional 
remissness,  it  performs  this  duty  with  creditable  success. 

Taste,  however,  is  not  equally  distributed  over  the 
whole    surface   of    the   tongue   alike.      There   are   three 


198  FOOD  AND  FEEDING 

distinct  regions  or  tracts,  each  of  which  has  to  perform  its 
own  special  office  and  function.  The  tip  of  the  tongue  is 
concerned  mainly  with  pungent  and  acrid  tastes  ;  the 
middle  portion  is  sensitive  chiefly  to  sweets  and  bitters ; 
while  the  back  or  lower  portion  confines  itself  almost 
entirely  to  the  flavours  of  roast  meats,  butter,  oils,  and 
other  rich  or  fatty  substances.  There  are  very  good  reasons 
for  this  subdivision  of  faculties  in  the  tongue,  the  object 
being,  as  it  were,  to  make  each  piece  of  food  undergo  three 
separate  examinations  (like  '  smalls,'  •  mods,'  and  '  greats  ' 
at  Oxford),  which  must  be  successively  passed  before  it  'S 
admitted  into  full  participation  in  the  human  economy. 
The  first  examination,  as  we  shall  shortly  see,  gets  rid  at 
once  of  substances  which  would  be  actively  and  imme- 
diately destructive  to  the  very  tissues  of  the  mouth  and 
body ;  the  second  discrimmates  between  poisonous  and 
chemically  harmless  food-stuffs ;  and  the  third  merely 
decides  the  minor  question  whether  the  particular  food  is 
likely  to  prove  then  and  there  wholesome  or  indigestible  to 
the  particular  person.  The  sense  of  taste  proceeds,  in  fact, 
upon  the  principle  of  gradual  selection  and  elimination  ;  it 
refuses  first  what  is  positively  destructive,  next  what  is 
more  remotely  deleterious,  and  finally  what  is  only  undesi- 
rable or  over-luscious. 

When  we  v/ant  to  assure  ourselves,  by  means  of  taste, 
about  any  unknown  object — say  a  lump  of  some  white 
stuff,  which  may  be  crystal,  or  glass,  or  alum,  or  borax,  or 
quartz,  or  roeksalt— we  put  the  tip  of  the  tongue  against  it 
gingerly.  If  it  begins  to  burn  us,  we  draw  it  away  more 
or  less  rapidly  with  an  accompaniment  in  language  strictly 
dependent  upon  our  personal  habits  and  manners.  The 
test  we  thus  occasionally  apply,  even  in  the  civilised  adult 
state,  to  unknown  bodies  is  one  that  is  being  applied  every 
day  and  all  day  long  by  children  and  savages.    Unsophis- 


FOOD  AND  FEEDING  199 

ticated  humanity  is  constantly  putting  everything  it  sees 
up  to  its  mouth  in  a  frank  spirit  of  experimental  inquiry  as 
to  its  gustatory  properties.  In  civihscd  life  we  find  every- 
thing ready  labelled  and  assorted  for  us  ;  we  comparatively 
seldom  require  to  roll  the  contents  of  a  suspicious  bottle 
(in  very  small  quantities)  doubtfully  upon  the  tongue  in 
order  to  discover  whether  it  is  pale  sherry  or  Chili  vinegar, 
Dublin  stout  or  mushroom  ketchup.  But  in  the  savage 
state,  from  which,  geologically  and  biologically  speaking, 
we  have  only  just  emerged,  bottles  and  labels  do  not  exist. 
Primitive  man,  therefore,  in  his  sweet  simplicity,  has  only 
two  modes  open  before  him  for  deciding  whether  the 
things  he  finds  are  or  are  not  strictly  edible.  The  first 
thing  he  does  is  to  sniff  at  them ;  and  smell,  being,  as  Mr. 
Herbert  Spencer  has  well  put  it,  an  anticipatory  taste, 
generally  gives  him  some  idea  of  what  the  thing  is  likely 
to  prove.  The  second  thing  he  does  is  to  pop  it  into  his 
mouth,  and  proceed  practically  to  examine  its  further 
characteristics. 

Strictly  speaking,  with  the  tip  of  the  tongue  one  can't 
really  taste  at  all.  If  you  put  a  small  drop  of  honey  or  of 
oil  of  bitter  almonds  on  that  part  of  the  mouth,  you  will  find 
(no  doubt  to  your  great  surprise)  that  it  produces  no  effect  of 
any  sort ;  you  only  taste  it  when  it  begins  slowly  to  diffuse 
itself,  and  reaches  the  true  tasting  region  in  the  middle 
distance.  But  if  you  put  a  little  cayenne  or  mustard  on 
the  same  part,  you  will  find  that  it  bites  you  immediately 
— the  experiment  should  be  tried  sparingly — while  if  you 
put  it  lower  down  in  the  mouth  you  will  swallow  it  almost 
without  noticing  the  pungency  of  the  stimulant.  The 
reason  is,  that  the  tip  of  the  tongue  is  supplied  only  with 
nerves  which  are  really  nerves  of  touch,  not  nerves  of 
taste  proper  ;  they  belong  to  a  totally  different  main  branch, 
and  they  go  to  a  different  centre  in  the  brain,  together 


200  FOOD  AND   FEEDING 

with  the  very  similar  threads  which  supply  the  nerves  of 
smell  for  mustard  and  pepper.  That  is  why  the  smell  and 
taste  of  these  pungent  substances  are  so  much  alike,  as 
everybody  must  have  noticed,  a  good  sniff  at  a  mustard- 
pot  producing  annost  the  same  irritating  effects  as  an  in- 
cautious mouthful.  As  a  rule  we  don't  accurately  distin- 
guish, it  is  true,  between  these  different  regions  of  taste  in 
the  mouth  in  ordinary  life  ;  but  that  is  because  we  usually 
roll  our  food  about  instinctively,  witliout  paying  much 
attention  to  the  particular  part  affected  by  it.  Indeed, 
when  one  is  trying  deliberate  experiments  in  the  subject, 
in  order  to  test  the  varying  sensitiveness  of  the  different 
parts  to  diil'erent  substances,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  the 
tongue  quite  dry,  in  order  to  isolate  the  thing  you  are  ex- 
perimenting with,  and  prevent  its  spreading  to  all  parts  of 
the  mouth  together.  In  actual  practice  this  result  is  ob- 
tained in  a  rather  ludicrous  manner — by  blowing  upon  the 
tongue,  between  each  experiment,  with  a  pair  of  bellows. 
To  such  undignified  expedients  does  the  pursuit  of  science 
lead  the  ardent  modern  psychologist.  Those  domestic 
rivals  of  Dr.  Forbes  Winslow,  the  servants,  who  behold 
the  enthusiastic  investigator  alternately  drying  his  tongue 
in  this  ridiculous  fashion,  as  if  he  were  a  blacksmith's  fire, 
and  then  squeezing  out  a  single  drop  of  essence  of  pepper, 
vinegar,  or  beef-tea  from  a  glass  syringe  upon  the  dry  sur- 
face, not  unnaturally  arrive  at  the  conclusion  that  master 
has  gone  stark  mad,  and  that,  in  their  private  opinion,  it's 
the  microscope  and  the  skeleton  as  has  done  it. 

Above  all  things,  we  don't  want  to  be  flayed  alive.  So  the 
kinds  of  tastes  discriminated  by  the  tip  of  the  tongue  are  the 
pungent,  like  pepper,  cayenne  and  mustard ;  the  astringent, 
like  borax  and  alum  ;  the  alkaline,  like  soda  and  potash  ; 
the  acid,  like  vinegar  and  green  fruit ;  and  the  saline,  like 
salt  and  ammonia.     Almost  all  the  bodies  likely  to  give 


FOOD  AND  FEEDING  201 

rise  to  such  tastes  (or,  more  correctly,  sensations  of  touch 
in  the  tongue)  are  obviously  unwholesome  and  destructive 
in  their  character,  at  least  when  taken  m  large  quantities. 
Nobody  wishes  to  drink  nitric  acid  by  the  quart.  The  first 
business  of  this  part  of  the  tongue  is,  therefore,  to  warn  us 
emphatically  against  caustic  substances  and  corrosive  acids, 
against  vitriol  and  kerosene,  spirits  of  wine  and  ether,  cap- 
sicums and  burning  leaves  or  roots,  such  as  those  of  the 
common  Enghsh  lords-and-ladies.  Things  of  this  sort  are 
immediately  destructive  to  the  very  tissues  of  the  tongue 
and  palate ;  if  taken  incautiously  in  too  large  doses,  they 
burn  the  skin  off  the  roof  of  the  mouth ;  and  when 
swallowed  they  play  havoc,  of  course,  with  our  internal 
arrangements.  It  is  higlily  advisable,  therefore,  to  have  an 
immediate  warning  of  these  extremely  dangerous  sub- 
stances, at  the  very  outset  of  our  feeding  apparatus. 

This  kind  of  taste  hardly  differs  from  touch  or 
burning.  The  sensibility  of  the  tip  of  the  tongue  is 
only  a  very  slight  modification  of  the  sensibility  possessed 
by  the  skin  generally,  and  especially  by  the  inner  folds 
over  all  delicate  parts  of  the  body.  We  all  know  that 
common  caustic  burns  us  wherever  it  touches  ;  and  it 
burns  the  tongue  only  in  a  somewhat  more  marlced 
manner.  Nitric  or  sulphuric  acid  attacks  the  fingers  each 
after  its  own  kind.  A  mustard  plaster  makes  us  tingle 
almost  immediately  ;  and  the  action  of  mustard  on  the 
tongue  hardly  differs,  except  in  being  more  instantaneous 
and  more  discriminative.  Cantharides  work  in  just  the 
same  way.  If  you  cut  a  red  pepper  in  two  and  rub  it  on 
your  neck,  it  will  sting  just  as  it  does  when  put  into  soup 
(this  experiment,  however,  is  best  tried  upon  one's  younger 
brother ;  if  made  personally,  it  hardly  repays  the  trouble 
and  annoyance).  Even  vinegar  and  other  acids,  rubbed 
into  the  skin,  are  followed  by  a  slight  tingling ;  while  the 


202  FOOD   AND   FKEDINO 

effect  of  brandy,  applied,  say,  to  the  arms,  is  gently  stimu- 
lating and  pleasurable,  somewhat  in  the  same  way  as  when 
normally  swallowed  in  conjunction  with  the  liabitual 
seltzer.  In  short,  most  things  which  give  rise  to  distinct 
tastes  when  applied  to  the  tip  of  the  tongue  give  rise  to 
fainter  sensations  when  applied  to  the  skin  generally.  And 
one  hardly  needs  to  be  reminded  that  pepper  or  vinegar 
placed  (accidentally  as  a  rule)  on  the  inner  surface  of  the 
eyelids  produces  a  very  distinct  and  unpleasant  smart. 

The  fact  is,  the  liability  to  be  chemically  affected  by 
pungent  or  acid  bodies  is  common  to  every  part  of  the 
skin ;  but  it  is  least  felt  where  the  tough  outer  skin  is 
thickest,  and  most  felt  where  that  skin  is  thinnest,  and 
the  nerves  are  most  plentifully  distributed  near  the  surface. 
A  mustard  plaster  would  probably  fail  to  draw  at  all  on 
one's  heel  or  the  palm  of  one's  hand  ;  while  it  is  decidedly 
painful  on  one's  neck  or  chest ;  and  a  mere  speck  of  mus- 
tard inside  the  eyelid  gives  one  positive  torture  for  hours 
together.  Now,  the  tip  of  t}ie  tongue  is  just  a  part  of  one's 
body  specially  set  aside  for  this  very  object,  provided  with 
an  extremely  thin  skin,  and  supplied  with  an  immense 
number  of  lierves,  on  purpose  so  as  to  be  easily  affected  by 
all  such  pungent,  alkahne,  or  spirituous  substances.  Sir 
Wilfrid  Lawson  would  probably  conclude  that  it  was 
deliberately  designed  by  Providence  to  warn  us  against  a 
wicked  indulgence  in  the  brandy  and  seltzer  aforesaid. 

At  first  sight  it  might  seem  as  though  there  were 
hardly  enough  of  such  pungent  and  fiery  things  in  exist- 
ence to  make  it  worth  while  for  us  to  be  provided  with  a 
special  mechanism  for  guarding  against  them.  That  is 
true  enough,  no  doubt,  as  regards  our  modern  civilised  life  ; 
though,  even  now,  it  is  perliaps  just  as  well  that  our  chil- 
dren should  have  an  internal  monitor  (other  than  con- 
science) to  dissuade  them  immediately  from  indiscriminate 


FOOD   AND   FEEDING  203 

indulgence  in  photographic  chemicals,  the  contents  of 
stray  medicine  bottles,  and  the  best  dried  West  India 
chilios.  ]Uit  in  an  earlier  period  of  progress,  and  especi- 
ally in  tropical  countries  (where  the  Darwinians  have  now 
decided  the  human  race  made  its  first  ddbut  upon  this  or 
any  other  stage),  things  were  very  difterent  indeed.  Pun- 
gent and  poisonous  plants  and  fruits  abounded  on  every 
side.  We  have  all  of  us  in  our  youth  been  taken  in  by 
some  too  cruelly  waggish  companion,  who  insisted  upon 
making  us  eat  the  bright,  glossy  leaves  of  the  common 
English  arum,  which  without  look  pretty  and  juicy  enough, 
but  within  are  full  of  the  concentrated  essence  of  pungency 
and  profanity.  Well,  there  are  hundreds  of  such  plants, 
even  in  cold  climates,  to  tempt  the  eyes  and  poison  the 
veins  of  unsuspecting  cattle  or  childish  humanity.  There 
is  buttercup,  so  horribly  acrid  that  cows  carefully  avoid  it 
in  their  closest  cropped  pastures  ;  and  yet  your  cow  is  not 
usually  a  too  dainty  animal.  There  is  aconite,  the  deadly 
poison  with  which  Dr.  Lamson  removed  his  troublesome 
relatives.  There  is  baneberry,  whose  very  name  sufficiently 
describes  its  dangerous  nature.  There  are  horse-radish, 
and  stinging  rocket,  and  biting  wall-pepper,  and  still 
smarter  water-pepper,  and  worm-wood,  and  nightshade, 
and  spurge,  and  hemlock,  and  half  a  dozen  -Uier  equally 
unpleasant  weeds.  All  of  these  have  acquired  their  pun- 
gent and  poisonous  properties,  just  as  nettles  have  acquired 
their  sting,  and  thistles  their  thorns,  in  order  to  prevent 
animals  from  browsing  upon  them  and  destroying  them. 
And  the  animals  in  turn  have  acquired  a  very  delicate 
sense  of  pungency  on  purpose  to  warn  them  beforehand  of 
the  existence  of  such  dangerous  and  undesirable  qualities 
in  the  plants  which  they  might  otherwise  be  tempted  in- 
cautiously to  swallow. 

In    tropical  woods,  where   our  '  hairy  quadrumanous 
U 


204  FOOD  AND  FKKDINO 

ancestor  '  (Darwinian  for  the  prinneval  nionkty,  from  whom 
wo  are  presiuuably  iloscended)  used  phiyfully  to  disport 
himself,  as  yot  unconscious  of  his  glorious  destiny  as  tho 
remote  progenitor  of  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and  the  late 
Mr.  Peace— in  tropical  woods,  such  acrid  or  piuij^^ent  fruits 
and  plants  are  particularly  connnon,  and  correspondingly 
annoying.  The  fact  is,  our  primitive  forefather  and  all 
the  other  monkeys  are,  or  were,  confirmed  fruit-eaters. 
]Jnt  to  guard  against  their  depredations  a  vast  number  of 
tropical  fruits  and  nuts  have  acquired  disagreeable  or  fiery 
rinds  and  sheila,  which  suffice  to  dctcu*  the  bold  aggressor. 
It  may  not  be  nice  to  get  your  tongue  burnt  with  a  root  or 
fruit,  but  it  is  at  least  a  great  deal  better  than  getting 
poisoned  ;  and,  roughly  speaking,  pungency  in  external 
nature  exactly  answers  to  the  rough  gaudy  labels  which 
some  chemists  paste  on  bottles  containing  poisons.  It 
means  to  say,  '  This  fruit  or  leaf,  if  you  eat  it  in  any  quan- 
tities, will  kill  you,'  That  is  the  true  explanation  of 
capsicums,  pimento  colocynth,  croton  oil,  the  upas  tree, 
and  the  vast  majority  of  bitter,  acrid,  or  fiery  fruits  and 
leaves.  If  we  had  to  pick  up  our  own  livelihood,  as  our 
naked  ancestors  had  to  do,  from  roots,  seeds,  and  berries, 
we  should  far  more  readily  appreciate  this  simple  truth. 
We  should  know  that  a  great  many  more  plants  than  we 
now  suspect  are  bitter  or  pungent,  and  therefore  poisonous. 
Even  in  England  we  are  familiar  enough  with  such  defences 
as  those  possessed  by  the  outer  rind  of  the  walnut ;  but 
the  tropical  cashew-nut  has  a  rind  so  intensely  acrid  that 
it  blisters  the  lips  and  fingers  instantaneously,  in  the  same 
way  as  cantharides  would  do.  I  believe  that  on  the  whole, 
taking  nature  throughout,  more  fruits  and  nuts  are  poison- 
ous, or  intensely  bitter,  or  very  fiery,  than  are  sweet, 
luscious,  and  edible. 

'  But,'  says  that  fidgety  person,  the  hypothetical  objector 


FOOD   AND   rEHDlNQ  205 

(whom  one  always  sets  up  for  the  express  purpose  of 
proiiiplly  kiiockiii^'  him  tlovvii  a;;ain),  '  if  it  bo  the  business 
of  tlie  fore  purl  of  the  tonj^ue  to  warn  us  ngiiiiist  pungent 
and  acrid  substances,  how  comes  it  that  wo  purposely 
use  such  tliinj^'s  as  mustard,  pepper,  cmry-powilor,  and 
vinegar  ? '  ^Vc'll,  in  themselves  all  these  things  are,  strictly 
speaking,  bad  for  us ;  but  '  snuiU  quantities  they  act  as 
agreeable  stinudants  ;  and  v  «ake  care  in  preparing  most 
of  them  to  get  rid  of  the  most  objectionable  properties. 
Moreover,  we  use  them,  not  as  foods,  but  merely  as  condi- 
ments. One  drop  of  oil  of  capsicums  is  enough  to  kill  a 
man,  if  taken  undiluted ;  but  in  actual  practice  we  buy  it  in 
such  a  very  diluted  form  that  comparatively  little  harm 
arises  from  using  it.  Still,  very  young  children  dislike  all 
these  violent  stimulants,  even  in  small  quantities ;  they 
won't  touch  mustard,  pepper,  or  vinegar,  and  they  recoil  at 
once  from  wine  or  spirits.  It  is  only  by  slow  degrees  that 
we  learn  these  unnatural  tastes,  as  our  nerves  get  blunted  and 
our  palates  jaded  ;  and  we  all  know  that  the  old  Indian  who 
can  eat  nothing  but  dry  curries,  devilled  biscuits,  anchovy 
paste,  pepper-pot,  mulligatawny  soup,  Worcestershire  sauce, 
preserved  ginger,  hot  pickles,  fiery  sherry,  and  neat  cognac, 
is  also  a  person  with  no  digestion,  a  fragmentary  liver,  and 
very  little  chance  of  getting  himself  accepted  by  any  safe 
and  solvent  insurance  ofiice.  Throughout,  the  warning  in 
itself  is  a  useful  one ;  it  is  we  who  foolishly  and  persistently 
disregard  it.  Alcohol,  for  example,  tells  us  at  once  that  it 
is  bad  for  us ;  yet  we  manage  so  to  dress  it  up  with  flavour- 
ing matters  and  dilute  it  with  water  that  we  overlook  the 
fiery  character  of  the  spirit  itself.  But  that  alcohol  is  in 
itself  a  bad  thing  (when  freely  indulged  in)  has  been  so 
abundantly  demonstrated  in  the  history  of  mankind  that  it 
hardly  needs  any  further  proof. 

The  middle  region  of  the  tongue  is  the  part  with  which 


206  FOOD  AND   FEEDING 

WO  experience  sensations  of  taste  proper — that  is  to  say,  of 
sweetness  and  bitterness.  In  a  healthy,  natural  state  all 
sweet  thinjj:s  are  pleasant  to  us,  and  all  bitters  (even  if 
combined  with  sherry)  unpleasant.  The  reason  for  tliis  is 
easy  enough  to  understand.  It  carries  us  back  at  once  into 
those  prinneval  trojiical  forests,  where  our  '  hairy  ancestor ' 
used  to  diet  himself  upon  the  fruits  of  the  eartli  in  duo 
season.  Now,  almost  all  edible  fruits,  roots,  and  tubers 
contain  sugar;  and  therefore  the  presence  of  sugar  is,  in 
the  wild  condition,  as  good  a  rough  test  of  whether  any- 
thing is  good  to  eat  as  one  could  easily  fhid.  In  fact,  the 
argument  cuts  both  ways  :  edible  fruits  are  sweet  because 
they  are  intended  for  man  and  other  aninuils  to  eat ;  and 
man  and  other  animals  have  a  tongue  pleasurably  ail'ected 
by  sugar  because  sugary  things  in  nature  are  for  them  in 
the  highest  degree  edible.  Our  early  progenitors  formed 
their  taste  upon  oranges,  mangoes,  bananas,  and  grapes  ; 
upon  sweet  potatoes,  sugar-cane,  dates,  and  wild  honey. 
There  is  scarcely  anything  fitted  for  human  food  in  the 
vegetable  world  (and  our  earliest  ancestors  were  most  un- 
doubted vegetarians)  which  does  not  contain  sugar  in  con- 
siderable quantities.  In  temperate  climates  (where  man  is 
but  a  recent  intruder),  we  have  taken,  it  is  true,  to  regard- 
ing wheaten  bread  as  the  staff  of  life  ;  but  in  our  native 
tropics  enormous  populations  still  live  almost  exclusively 
upon  plantains,  bananas,  bread-fruit,  yams,  sweet  potatoes, 
dates,  cocoanuts,  ir.elons,  cassava,  pine-apples,  and  ligs. 
Our  nerves  have  been  adapted  to  the  circumstances  of  our 
early  life  as  a  race  in  tropical  forests ;  and  wo  still  retain  a 
marked  liking  for  sweets  of  evei*y  sort.  Not  content  with 
our  strawberries,  raspberries,  gooseberries,  currants,  apples, 
pears,  cherries,  plums  and  other  northern  fruits,  we  ransack 
the  world  for  dates,  figs,  raisins,  and  oranges.  Indeed,  in 
spite  of  our  acquired  meat-eating  propensities,  it  may  be 


FOOD   AND  FKEDINO  207 

fairly  said  that  fruits  iiiid  seeds  (including  wheat,  rice,  pcaa, 
beans,  and  other  ;;rains  and  pulse)  still  form  by  far  tho 
most  important  element  in  the  food  stull's  of  Imman  popula- 
tions generally. 

liut  besides  the  natural  sweets,  we  have  also  taken  to 
producing  artificial  ones,  lias  any  housewife  ever  realised 
tho  alarming  condition  of  cookery  in  the  benighted  gene- 
rations before  the  invention  of  sugar?  It  is  really  almost 
too  appalling  to  think  about.  So  many  things  that  we  now 
look  upon  as  all  but  necessaries — cakes,  puddings,  made 
dishes,  confectionery,  preserves,  sweet  biscuits,  jellies, 
cooked  fruits,  tarts,  and  so  forth — wore  then  practically 
quite  impossible.  Fancy  attempting  nowadays  to  live  a 
single  day  without  sugar ;  no  tea,  no  colYee,  no  jam,  no 
pudding,  no  cake,  no  sweets,  no  hot  toddy  before  one  goes 
to  bed;  the  bare  idea  of  it  is  too  terrible.  And  yet  that 
was  really  tho  abject  condition  of  all  tho  civilised  world  up 
to  the  middle  of  the  middle  ages.  Horace's  punch  was 
sugarless  and  lemonless ;  the  gentle  Virgil  never  tasted 
the  congenial  cup  of  afternoon  tea ;  and  Socrates  went 
from  his  cradle  to  his  grave  without  ever  knowing  the 
llavour  of  peppermint  bull's  eyes.  How  tho  children 
niaiuigcdto  spend  their  Saturday  as,  or  their  weekly  oholus, 
is  a  profound  mystery.  To  be  sure,  people  had  honey  ;  but 
lioney  is  rare,  dear,  and  scanty  ;  it  can  never  have  filled 
one  quarter  the  place  that  sugar  tills  in  our  modern  affec- 
tions. Try  for  a  monunit  to  realise  drinking  lioney  wdth 
one's  whisky-and-water,  or  doing  the  year's  preserving 
with  a  pot  of  best  Narbonne,  and  you  get  at  once  a  common 
measure  of  the  difference  between  the  two  as  practical 
sweeteners.  Nowadays,  we  get  sugar  from  cane  and  beet- 
root in  abundance,  while  sugar-maples  and  palm-trees  of 
various  sorts  afford  a  considerable  supply  to  remoter 
countries.      But  the  childhood  of  the  littld  Greeks  and 


208  FOOD  AND  FEP:DING 

Eomans  must  have  been  absolutely  unliglited  by  a  single 
ray  of  joy  from  chocolate  creams  or  Everton  toffee. 

The  consequence  of  this  excessive  production  of  sweets 
in  modern  times  is,  of  course,  that  we  have  begun  to  dis- 
trust the  indications  afforded  us  by  the  sense  of  taste  in 
this  particular  as  to  the  wholesomeness  of  various  objects. 
We  can  mix  sugar  with  anything  we  like,  whether  it  had 
sugar  in  it  to  begin  with  or  otherwise  ;  and  by  sweetening 
and  flavouring  we  can  give  a  false  palatableness  to  even 
the  worst  and  most  indigestible  rubbish,  such  as  plaster-of- 
Paris,  largely  sold  under  the  name  of  sugared  almonds  to 
the  ingenuous  youth  of  two  hemispheres.  But  in  un- 
touched nature  the  test  rarely  or  never  fails.  As  long  as 
fruits  are  unripe  and  unfit  for  human  food,  they  are  green 
and  sour ;  as  soon  as  they  ripen  they  become  soft  and 
sweet,  and  usually  acquire  some  bright  colour  as  a  sort  of 
advertisement  of  their  edibility.  In  the  main,  bar  the  acci- 
dents of  civilisation,  whatever  is  sweet  is  good  to  eat — nay 
more,  is  meant  to  be  eaten  ;  it  is  only  our  own  perverse 
folly  that  makes  us  sometimes  think  all  nice  things  bad  for 
us,  and  all  wholesome  things  nasty.  In  a  state  of  nature, 
the  exact  opposite  is  really  the  case.  One  may  observe, 
too,  that  children,  who  are  literally  young  savages  in  more 
senses  than  one,  stand  nearer  to  the  primitive  feeling  in 
this  respect  than  grown-up  people.  They  unaffectedly  like 
sweets ;  adults,  who  have  grown  more  accustomed  to  the 
artificial  meat  diet,  don't,  as  a  rule,  care  much  for 
puddings,  cakes,  and  made  dishes.  (May  I  venture  paren- 
thetically to  add,  any  appearance  to  the  contrary  notwith- 
standing, that  I  am  not  a  vegetarian,  and  that  I  am  far 
from  desiring  to  bring  down  upon  my  devoted  head  the 
imprecation  pronounced  against  the  rash  person  who 
would  rob  a  poor  man  of  his  beer.  It  is  quite  possible  to 
believe  that  vegetarianism  was  the  starting  point  of  the 


FOOD  AND  FEEDING  209 

race,  without  wishing  to  consider  it  also  as  the  goal ;  just 
as  it  is  quite  possible  to  regard  clothes  as  purely  artificial 
products  of  civilisation,  ^'ithout  desiring  personally  to 
return  to  the  charming  simplicity  of  the  Garden  of  Eden.) 

Bitter  things  in  nature  at  large,  on  the  contrary,  are 
almost  invariably  poisonous.  Strychnia,  for  example,  is 
intensely  bitter,  and  it  is  well  known  that  life  cannot  be 
supported  on  strychnia  alone  for  more  than  a  few  hours. 
Again,  colocynth  and  aloes  are  far  from  being  wholesome 
food  stuffs,  for  a  continuance ;  and  the  bitter  end  of 
cucumber  does  not  conduce  to  the  highest  standard  of  good 
living.  The  bitter  matter  in  decaying  apples  is  highly 
injurious  when  swallowed,  which  it  isn't  likely  to  be  by 
anybody  who  ever  tastes  it.  Wormwood  and  walnut-shells 
contain  other  bitter  and  poisonous  principles  ;  absinthe, 
which  is  made  from  one  of  them,  is  a  favourite  slow  poison 
with  the  fashionable  young  men  of  Paris,  who  wish  to 
escape  prematurely  from  '  Le  monde  ou  Ton  s'ennuie.' 
But  prussic  acid  is  the  commonest  component  in  all 
natural  bitters,  being  found  in  bitter  almonds,  apple 
pips,  the  kernels  of  mangosteens,  and  many  other  seeds 
and  fruits.  Indeed,  one  may  say  roughly  that  the  object 
of  nature  generally  is  to  prevent  the  actual  seeds  of 
edible  fruits  from  being  eaten  and  digested ;  and  for  this 
purpose,  while  she  stores  the  pulp  with  sweet  juices,  she 
encloses  the  seed  itself  in  hard  stony  coverings,  and  makes 
it  nasty  with  bitter  essences.  Eat  an  orange-pip,  and  you 
will  promptly  observe  how  effectual  is  this  arrangement. 
As  a  rule,  the  outer  rind  of  nuts  is  bitter,  and  the  inner 
kernel  of  edible  fruits.  The  tongue  thus  warns  us  imme- 
diately against  bitter  things,  as  being  poisonous,  and 
prevents  us  automatically  from  swallowing  them. 

*  But  how  is  it,'  asks  our  objector  again,  '  that  so  many 
poisons  are  tasteless,  or  even,  like  sugar  of  lead,  pleasant 


210  FOOD  AND  FEEDING 

to  the  palate  ? '  The  answer  is  (you  see,  we  knock  him 
down  again,  as  usual)  because  these  poisons  are  themselves 
for  the  most  part  artificial  products  ;  they  do  not  occur  in 
a  state  of  nature,  at  least  in  man's  ordinary  surroundings. 
Almost  every  poisonous  thing  that  we  are  really  liable  to 
meet  with  in  the  wild  state  we  are  warned  against  at  once 
by  the  sense  of  taste ;  but  of  course  it  would  be  absurd  to 
suppose  that  natural  selection  could  have  produced  a  mode 
of  warning  us  against  poisons  which  have  never  before 
occurred  in  human  experience.  One  might  just  as  well 
expect  that  it  should  have  rendered  us  dynamite-proof,  or 
have  given  us  a  skin  like  the  hide  of  a  rhinoceros  to  pro- 
tect us  against  the  future  contingency  of  the  invention  of 
rifles. 

Sweets  and  bitters  are  really  almost  the  only  tastes 
proper,  almost  the  only  ones  discriminated  by  this  central 
and  truly  gustatory  region  of  the  tongue  and  palate.  Most 
so-called  flavourings  will  be  found  on  strict  examination 
to  be  nothing  more  than  mixtures  with  these  of  certain 
smells,  or  else  of  pungent,  salty,  or  alkaline  matters,  dis- 
tinguished as  such  by  the  tip  of  the  tongue.  For  instance, 
paradoxical  as  it  sounds  to  say  so,  cinnamon  has  really  no 
taste  at  all,  but  only  a  smell.  Nobody  will  ever  believe 
this  on  first  hearing,  but  nothing  on  earth  is  easier  than  to 
put  it  to  the  test.  Take  a  small  piece  of  cinnamon,  hold 
your  nose  tigh  tly,  rather  high  up,  between  the  thumb  and 
finger,  and  begin  chewing  it.  You  will  find  that  it  is 
absolutely  tasteless  ;  you  are  merely  chewing  a  perfectly 
insipid  bit  of  bark.  Then  let  go  your  nose,  and  you  will 
find  immediately  that  it  *  tastes '  strongly,  though  in 
reality  it  is  only  the  perfume  from  it  that  you  now  permit 
to  rise  into  the  smelling-chamber  in  the  nose.  So,  again, 
cloves  have  only  a  pungent  taste  and  a  peculiar  smell,  and 
the  same  is  the  case  more  or  less  with  almost  all  distinctive 


FOOD  AND  FEEDING  211 

flavourings.  When  you  come  to  find  of  what  they  are 
made  up,  they  consist  generally  of  sweets  or  bitters,  inter- 
mixed with  certain  ethereal  perfumes,  or  with  pungent  or 
acid  tastes,  or  with  both  or  several  such  together.  In  this 
way,  a  comparatively  small  number  of  original  elements, 
variously  combined,  suffice  to  make  up  the  whole  enormous 
mass  of  recognisably  different  tastes  and  flavours. 

The  third  and  loweso  part  of  the  tongue  and  throat  is 
the  seat  of  those  peculiar  tastes  to  which  Professor  Bain, 
the  great  authority  upon  this  important  philosophical  sub- 
ject, has  given  the  names  of  relishes  and  disgusts.  It  is 
here,  chiefly,  that  we  taste  animal  food,  fats,  butters,  oils, 
and  the  richer  class  of  vegetables  and  made  dishes.  If  we 
like  them,  we  experience  a  sensation  which  may  be  called 
a  relish,  and  which  induces  one  to  keep  rolling  the  morsel 
farther  down  the  throat,  till  it  passes  at  last  beyond  the 
region  of  our  voluntary  control.  If  we  don't  like  them, 
we  get  the  sensation  which  may  be  called  a  disgust,  and 
which  is  very  different  from  the  mere  unpleasantness  of 
excessively  pungent  or  bitter  things.  It  is  far  less  of  an 
intellectual  and  far  more  of  a  physical  and  emotional 
feeling.  We  say,  and  say  rightly,  of  such  things  that  we 
find  it  hard  to  swallow  them  ;  a  something  within  us  (of  a 
very  tangible  nature)  seems  to  rise  up  bodily  and  protest 
against  them.  As  a  very  good  example  of  this  experience, 
take  one's  first  attempt  to  swallow  cod-liver  oil.  Other 
things  may  be  unpleasant  or  unpalatable,  but  things  of  this 
class  are  in  the  strictest  sense  nasty  and  disgusting. 

The  fact  is,  the  lower  part  of  the  tongue  is  supplied 
with  nerves  in  close  sympathy  with  the  digestion.  If  the 
food  which  has  been  passed  by  the  two  previous  examiners 
is  found  here  to  be  simple  and  digestible,  it  is  permitted  to 
go  on  unchallenged  ;  if  it  is  found  to  be  too  rich,  too 
bilious,  or  too  indigestible,  a  protest  is  promptly  entered 


212  FOOD  AND  FEEDING 

against  it,  and  if  we  are  wise  we  will  immediately  desist 
from  eating  any  more  of  it.  It  is  here  that  the  impartial 
tribunal  of  nature  pronounces  definitely  against  roast 
goose,  mince  pies,  2)dt4  dc  foie  gras,  sally  lunn,  muftinsand 
crumpets,  and  creamy  puddings.  It  is  here,  too,  that  the 
slightest  taint  in  meat,  milk,  or  butter  is  immediately  de- 
tected ;  that  rancid  pastry  from  the  pastrycook's  is  ruth- 
lessly exposed  ;  and  tliat  the  wiles  of  the  fishmonger  are  set 
at  naught  by  the  judicious  palate.  It  is  the  special  duty, 
in  fact,  of  this  last  examiner  to  discover,  not  whether  food 
is  positively  destructive,  not  whether  it  is  poisonous  or 
deleterious  in  nature,  but  merely  whether  it  is  then  and 
there  digestible  or  undesirable. 

As  our  state  of  health  varies  greatly  from  time  to  time, 
however,  so  do  the  warnings  of  this  last  sympathetic  ad- 
viser change  and  flicker.  Sweet  things  are  always  sweet, 
and  bitter  things  always  bitter ;  vinegar  is  always  sour, 
and  ginger  always  hot  in  the  mouth,  too,  whatever  our 
state  of  health  or  feeling.  But  our  taste  for  roast  loin  of 
mutton,  high  game,  salmon  cutlets,  and  Gorgonzola  cheese 
varies  immensely  from  time  to  time,  with  the  passing 
condition  of  our  health  and  digestion.  In  illness,  and 
especially  in  sea-sickness,  one  gets  the  distaste  carried  to 
the  extreme  :  you  may  eat  grapes  or  suck  an  orange  in  the 
chops  of  the  Channel,  but  you  do  not  feel  warmly  attached 
to  the  steward  who  offers  you  a  basin  of  greasy  ox- tail,  or 
consoles  you  with  promises  of  ham  sandwiches  in  half  a 
minute.  Under  those  two  painful  conditions  it  is  the  very 
light,  fresh,  and  stimulating  things  that  one  can  most 
easily  swallow — champagne,  soda-water,  strawberries, 
peaches ;  not  lobster  salad,  sardines  on  toast,  green  Char- 
treuse, or  hot  brandy-and-water.  On  the  other  hand,  in 
robust  health,  and  when  hungry  with  exercise,  you  can  eat 
fat  pork  with  relish  on  a  Scotch  hillside,  or  dine  off  fresh 


FOOD  AND  FEEDING  213 

salmon  three  days  running  without  inconvenience.  Even 
a  Spanish  stew,  with  plenty  of  garlic  in  i J,  and  floating  in 
olive  oil,  tastes  positively  delicious  after  a  day's  mountain- 
eering in  the  Pyrenees. 

The  healthy  popular  belief,  still  surviving  in  spite  of 
cookery,  that  our  likes  and  dislikes  are  the  best  guide  to 
what  is  good  for  us,  finds  its  justification  in  this  fact,  that 
whatever  is  relished  will  prove  on  the  average  wholesome, 
and  whatever  rouses  disgust  will  prove  on  the  whole  in- 
digestible. Nothing  can  be  more  wrong,  for  example,  than 
to  make  children  eat  fat  when  they  don't  want  it.  A 
healthy  child  likes  fat,  and  eats  as  much  of  it  as  he  can 
get.  If  a  child  shows  signs  of  disgust  at  fat,  that  proves 
that  it  is  of  a  bilious  temperament,  and  it  ought  never  to 
be  forced  into  eating  it  against  its  will.  Most  of  us  are 
bilious  in  after-life  just  because  we  were  compelled  to  eat 
rich  food  in  childhood,  which  we  felt  instinctively  was  un- 
suitable for  us.  We  might  still  be  indulging  with  impunity 
in  thick  turtle,  canvas-back  ducks,  devilled  whitebait, 
meringues,  and  Nesselrode  puddings,  if  we  hadn't  been  so 
persistently  overdosed  in  our  earlier  years  with  things  that 
we  didn't  want  and  knew  were  indigestible. 

Of  course,  in  our  existing  modern  cookery,  very  few 
simple  and  uncompounded  tastes  are  still  left  to  us  ;  every- 
thing is  so  mixed  up  together  that  only  by  an  effort  of  de- 
liberate experiment  can  one  discover  what  are  the  special 
effects  of  special  tastes  upon  the  tongue  and  palate.  Salt 
is  mixed  with  almost  everything  we  eat — sal  sapit  omnia 
— and  pepper  or  cayenne  is  nearly  equally  common.  Butter 
is  put  into  the  peas,  which  have  l)een  previously  adulterated 
by  being  boiled  with  mint ;  and  cucumber  is  unknown  ex- 
cept in  conjunction  with  oil  and  vinegar.  This  makes  it 
comparatively  difficult  for  us  to  realise  the  distinctness  of 
the  elements   which  go  to  make  up  most   tastes  as  we 


214  FOOD  AND  FEEDING 

actually  experience  them.  Moreover,  a  great  many  eatable 
objects  have  hardly  any  taste  of  their  own,  properly  speak- 
ing, but  only  a  feeling  of  softness,  or  hardness,  or  glutinous- 
ness  in  the  mouth,  mainly  observed  in  the  act  of  chewing 
them.  For  example,  plain  boiled  rice  is  almost  wholly 
insipid  ;  but  even  in  its  plainest  form  salt  has  usually  been 
boiled  with  it,  and  in  practice  we  generally  eat  it  witJi 
sugar,  preserves,  curry,  or  some  other  strongly  flavoured 
condiment.  Again,  plain  boiled  tapioca  and  sago  (in 
water)  are  as  nearly  tasteless  as  anything  can  be ;  they 
merely  yield  a  feeling  of  gumminess  ;  but  milk,  in  which 
they  are  oftenest  cooked,  gives  them  a  relish  (in  the  sense 
here  restricted),  and  sugar,  eggs,  cinnamon,  or  nutmeg  are 
usually  added  by  way  of  flavouring.  Even  turbot  has 
liprdly  any  taste  proper,  except  in  the  glutinous  skin, 
which  has  a  faint  relish  ;  the  epicure  values  it  rather  be- 
cause  of  its  softness,  its  delicacy,  and  its  light  flesh. 
Gelatine  by  itself  is  merely  very  swallowable  ;  we  must  mix 
sugar,  wine,  lemon -juice,  and  other  flavourings  in  order  to 
make  it  into  good  jelly.  Salt,  spices,  essences,  vanilla, 
vinegar,  pickles,  capers,  ketchups,  sauces,  chutneys,  lime- 
juice,  curry,  and  all  the  rest,  are  just  our  civilised  expedients 
for  adding  the  pleasure  of  pungency  and  acidity  to  naturally 
insipid  foods,  by  stimulating  the  nerves  of  touch  in  the 
tongue,  just  as  sugar  is  our  tribute  to  the  pure  gustatory 
sense,  and  oil,  butter,  bacon,  lard,  and  the  various  fats  used 
in  frying  to  the  sense  of  relish  which  forms  the  last 
element  in  our  compound  taste.  A  boiled  sole  is  all  very 
well  when  one  is  just  convalescent,  but  in  robust  health  we 
demand  the  delights  of  egg  and  bread-crumb,  which  are 
after  all  only  the  vehicle  for  the  appetising  grease.  Plain 
boiled  macaroni  may  pass  muster  in  the  unsophisticated 
nursery,  but  in  the  pampered  dining-room  it  requires  the 
aid  of  toasted  parmesan.    Good  modern  cookery  is  the 


FOOD  AND  FEEDING  215 

practical  result  of  centuries  of  experience  in  this  direction  ; 
the  final  flower  of  a^'es  of  evolution,  devoted  to  the  equalisa- 
tion of  flavours  in  all  human  food.  Think  of  the  genera- 
tions of  fruitless  experiment  that  must  have  passed  before 
mankind  discovered  that  mint  sauce  (itself  a  cunning  com- 
pound of  vinegar  and  sugar)  ought  to  be  eaten  with  leg  of 
lamb,  that  roast  goose  required  a  corrective  in  the  shape 
of  apple,  and  that  while  a  pre-established  harmony  existed 
between  salmon  and  lobster,  oysters  were  ordained  before- 
hand by  nature  as  the  proper  accompaniment  of  boiled  cod. 
Whenever  I  reflect  upon  such  things,  I  become  at  once  a 
good  Positivist,  and  offer  up  praise  in  my  own  private 
chapel  to  the  Spirit  of  Humanity  which  has  slowly  perfected 
these  profound  rules  of  good  living, 


21G  I)E  BANANA 


DE  BANANA 

The  title  wlilcli  heads  this  paper  is  intended  to  be  Latin, 
and  is  modelled  on  the  precedent  of  the  De  Amicitia,  De 
Senectute,  De  Corona,  and  other  time-honoured  plagues  of 
our  innocent  boyhood.  It  is  meant  to  give  dignity  and 
authority  to  the  subject  with  which  it  deals,  as  well  as  to 
rouse  curiosity  in  the  ingenuous  breast  of  the  candid 
reader,  who  may  perhaps  mistake  it,  at  first  siglit,  for  negro- 
English,  or  for  the  name  of  a  distinguished  Norman 
family.  In  anticipation  of  the  possible  objection  that  the 
word  'Banana 'is  not  strictly  classical,  I  would  humbly 
urge  the  precept  and  example  of  my  old  friend  Horace 
— enemy  I  once  thought  him — who  expresses  his  appro- 
bation of  those  happy  innovations  whereby  Latium  was 
gradually  enriched  with  a  copious  vocabulary.  I  main- 
tain that  if  Banana,  banana?,  &c.,  is  not  already  a  Latin 
noun  of  the  first  declension,  why  then  it  ought  to  be,  and 
it  shall  be  in  future.  Linnajus  indeed  thought  otherwise. 
He  too  assigned  the  plant  and  fruit  to  tlie  first  declension,  but 
handed  it  over  to  none  other  than  our  earliest  acquaintance 
in  the  Latin  language,  Musa.  He  called  the  banana  Musa 
sapicntum.  What  connection  he  could  possibly  conceive 
between  that  woolly  fruit  and  the  daughters  of  the  £egis- 
bearing  Zeus,  or  why  he  sliould  consider  it  a  proof  of 
wisdom  to  eat  a  particularly  indigestible  and  nightmare- 
begetting  food-stuff,   passes  my  humble  comprehension. 


DE  BANANA  217 

The  muses,  so  far  as  I  have  personally  noticed  their  habits, 
always  greatly  prefer  the  grape  to  the  banana,  and  wise  men 
shun  the  one  at  least  as  sedulously  as  they  avoid  the  other. 

Let  it  not  for  a  moment  be  supposed,  however,  that  I 
wish  to  treat  the  useful  and  ornamental  banana  with  in- 
tentional disrespect.  On  the  contrary,  I  cherish  for  it — 
atadistance  -feelings  of  the  highest  esteem  and  admiration. 
We  are  so  parochial  in  our  views,  taking  us  as  a  species, 
that  I  dare  say  very  few  English  people  really  know  how 
immensely  useful  a  plant  is  the  common  banana.  To  most 
of  us  it  eiivisages  itself  merely  as  a  curious  tropical  fruit, 
largely  imported  at  Covent  Garden,  and  a  capital  thing  to 
stick  on  one  of  the  tall  dessert-dishes  when  you  give  a  dinner- 
party, because  it  looks  delightfully  foreign,  and  just  serves 
to  balance  the  pine-apple  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  hos- 
pitable mahogany.  Terhaps  such  innocent  readers  will  be 
surprised  to  learn  that  bananas  and  plantains  supply  the 
principal  food-stuff  of  a  far  larger  fraction  of  the  human 
race  than  that  which  is  supported  by  wheaten  bread.  They 
form  the  veritable  staff  of  life  to  the  inhabitants  of  both 
eastern  and  western  tropics.  What  the  potato  is  to  the 
degenerate  descendant  of  Celtic  kings ;  what  the  oat  is 
to  the  kilted  Highlandman ;  what  rice  is  to  the  Bengalee, 
and  Indian  corn  to  the  American  negro,  that  is  the  muse 
of  sages  (I  translate  literally  from  the  immortal  Swede)  to 
African  savages  and  Brazilian  slaves.  Humboldt  calcu- 
lated that  an  acre  of  bananas  would  supply  a  greater 
quantity  of  solid  food  to  hungry  humanity  than  could 
possibly  be  extracted  from  the  same  extent  of  cultivated 
ground  by  any  other  known  plant.  So  you  see  the  question 
is  no  small  one  ;  to  sing  the  praise  of  this  Linnaean  muse 
is  a  task  well  worthy  of  the  Pierian  muses. 

Do  you  know  the  outer  look  and  aspect  of  the  banana 
plant  ?      If  not,  then  you  have  never  voyaged  to  those 


218  DE  BANANA 

delusive  tropics.  Tropical  vegetation,  as  ordinarily  under- 
stood by  poets  and  painters,  consists  entirely  of  the  coco- 
nut palm  and  the  banana  bush.  Do  you  wish  to  paint  a 
beautiful  picture  of  a  rich  ambrosial  tropical  island,  d  la 
Tennyson — a  summer  isle  of  Eden  lying  in  dark  purple 
spheres  of  sea  ? — then  you  introduce  a  group  of  coco-nuts, 
whispering  in  odorous  heights  of  even,  in  the  very  fore- 
ground of  your  pretty  sketch,  just  to  let  your  public  under- 
stand at  a  glance  that  these  are  the  delicious  poetical  tropics. 
Do  you  desire  to  create  an  ideal  paradise,  a  la  Bernardin 
de  St.  Pierre,  where  idyllic  Virginies  die  of  pure  modesty 
rather  than  appear  before  the  eyes  of  their  beloved  but  un- 
wedded  Pauls  in  a  lace-bedraped  ^w/[/«oir? — then  you 
strike  the  keynote  by  sticking  in  the  middle  distance  a  hut 
or  cottage,  overshadowed  by  the  broad  and  graceful  foliage 
of  the  picturesque  banana.  (*  Hut '  is  a  poor  and  chilly  word 
for  these  glowing  descriptions,  far  inferior  to  the  pretty 
and  high-sounding  original  cJiaumidrc.)  That  is  how  we 
do  the  tropics  when  we  want  to  work  upon  the  emotions  of 
the  reader.  But  it  is  all  a  delicate  theatrical  illusion  ;  a 
trick  of  art  meant  to  deceive  and  impose  upon  the  unwary 
who  have  never  been  there,  and  would  like  to  think 
it  all  genuine.  In  reality,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  you 
might  cast  your  eyes  casually  around  you  in  any  tropical 
valley,  and,  if  there  didn't  happen  to  be  a  native  cottage 
with  a  coco-nut  grove  and  banana  patch  anywhere  in  the 
neighbourhood,  you  would  see  nothing  in  the  way  of  vege- 
tation which  you  mightn't  see  at  home  any  day  in  Europe. 
But  what  painter  would  ever  venture  to  paint  the  tropics 
without  the  palm  trees  ?  Pie  might  just  as  well  try  to 
paint  the  desert  without  the  camels,  or  to  represent  St. 
Sebastian  without  a  sheaf  of  arrows  sticking  unperceived  in 
the  calm  centre  of  his  unruffled  bosom,  to  mark  and  empha- 
eise  his  Sebastian.'c  personality. 


DE  BANANA  219 

Still,  I  will  frankly  admit  that  the  banana  itself,  with 
its  practically  almost  identical  relation,  the  plantain,  is  a 
real  bit  of  tropical  folia^.'^e.  I  confess  to  a  settled  prejudice 
against  the  tropics  generally,  but  I  allow  the  sunsets,  the 
coco-nuts,  and  the  bananas.  The  true  stem  creeps  under- 
ground, and  sends  up  each  year  an  uprij:,'ht  branch,  thickly 
covered  with  majestic  broad  green  leaves,  somewhat  like 
tlioseof  thecannacultivatedinour  gardens  a^  •  Indian  shot,' 
but  far  larger,  nobler,  and  handsomer.  They  sometimes  mea- 
sure from  six  to  ten  feet  in  length,  and  their  thick  midrib 
and  strongly  marked  di'\3rging  veins  give  them  .a  very 
lordly  and  graceful  fip,  earance.  But  they  are  apt  in  prac- 
tice to  suffer  much  from  the  fury  of  the  tropical  storms.  The 
wind  rips  the  leaves  up  between  the  veins  as  far  as  the 
midrib  in  tangled  tatters  ;  so  that  after  a  good  hurricane 
they  look  more  like  coco-nut  palm  leaves  than  like  single 
broad  masses  of  foliage  as  they  ought  properly  to  do.  This, 
of  course,  is  the  effect  of  a  gentle  and  balmy  hurricane — a 
mere  capful  of  wind  that  tears  and  tatters  them.  After  a 
really  bad  storm  (one  of  the  sort  when  you  tie  ropes  round 
your  wooden  house  to  prevent  its  falling  bodily  to  pieces, 
I  mean)  the  bananas  are  all  actually  blown  down,  and  the 
crop  for  that  season  utterly  destroyed.  The  apparent  stem, 
being  merely  composed  of  the  overlapping  and  sheathing 
leaf-stalks,  has  naturally  very  little  stability ;  and  the 
soft  succulent  trunk  accordingly  gives  way  forthwith  at  the 
shghtest  onslaught.  This  liability  to  be  blown  down  in 
high  winds  forms  the  weak  point  of  the  plantain,  viewed 
as  a  food-stuff  crop.  In  the  South  Sea  Islands,  where 
there  is  little  shelter,  the  poor  Fijian,  in  cannibal  days, 
often  lost  his  one  means  of  subsistence  from  this  cause 
and  was  compelled  to  satisfy  the  pangs  of  hunger  on  the 
plump  persons  of  his  immediate  relatives.  But  since  the 
introductioii  of  Christianity,  and  of  a  dwarf  stout  wind- 
15 


2*20  DE  BANANA 

proof  variety  of  Laiuuia,  liis  condition  in  this  respect,  I  am 
glad  to  say,  has  been  greatly  ameliorated. 

13y  descent  the  banana  bush  is  a  developed  tropical  lily, 
not  at  all  remotely  allied  to  the  common  iris,  only  that  its 
flowers  and  fruit  are  clustered  together  on  a  hanging  spike, 
instead  of  growing  solitary  and  separate  as  in  the  truo 
irises.  The  blossoms,  which,  though  pretty,  are  compara- 
tively inconspicuous  for  the  size  of  the  plant,  show  the 
extraordinary  persistence  of  the  lily  type;  for  almost  all 
the  vast  number  of  species,  more  or  less  directly  descended 
from  the  primitive  lily,  continue  to  the  very  end  of  the 
chapter  to  have  six  petals,  six  stamens,  and  three  rows  of 
seeds  in  their  fruits  or  capsules.  But  practical  man,  with 
his  eye  always  steadily  lixed  on  the  one  important  quality 
of  edibility — the  sum  and  substance  to  most  people  of  all 
beta:  za\  research — lias  conihicd  his  attention  almost 
entirely  to  the  fruit  of  the  banana.  In  all  csser.tials  (other 
than  the  systematically  unimportant  one  just  alluded  to) 
the  banana  fruit  in  its  original  state  exactly  resembles  the 
capsule  of  the  iris— that  pretty  pod  that  divides  in  throe 
when  ripe,  and  shows  the  delicate  orange-coated  seeds 
lying  in  triple  rows  within — only,  in  the  banana,  the  fruit 
does  not  open  ;  in  the  sweet  language  of  technical  botany, 
it  is  an  indehiscent  capsule  ;  and  the  seeds,  instead  of 
standing  separate  and  distinct,  as  in  the  iris,  are  embedded 
in  a  soft  and  pulpy  substance  which  forms  the  edible  and 
practical  part  of  the  entire  arrangement. 

This  is  the  proper  appearance  of  the  original  and 
natural  banana,  before  it  has  been  taken  in  hand  and 
cultivated  by  tropical  man.  When  cut  across  the  middle, 
it  ought  to  show  three  rows  of  seeds,  interspersed  with 
pulp,  and  faintly  preserving  some  dim  memory  of  the 
dividing  wall  which  once  separated  them.  In  practice, 
however,  the  banana  differs  widely  from  this  theoretical 


DE  BANANA  221 

iiloal,  as  practice  often  tvlll  dilTor  from  theory ;  for  it  has 
been  so  lonj^'  cultivated  and  selected  by  man  —being  pro- 
bably one  of  tlio  very  oldest,  if  not  actually  quite  the  oldest, 
of  doniesti(;ated  plants — that  it  has  all  but  lost  the  ori;^nnal 
habit  of  producinc^  seeds.  This  is  a  common  cU'ect  of 
cultivation  on  fruits,  and  it  is  of  course  deliberately  aimed 
at  by  horticulturists,  as  the  seeds  are  generally  a  nuisance, 
regarded  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  eater,  and  their 
absence  improves  the  fruit,  as  long  as  one  can  numage  to 
get  along  somehow  without  them.  In  the  pretty  little 
Tangierine  oranges  (so  ingeniously  corrupted  by  fruiterers 
into  mandarins)  the  seeds  have  almost  been  cultivated 
out ;  in  the  best  pine-apples,  and  in  the  small  grapes 
known  in  the  dried  state  as  currants,  they  have  quite  dis- 
appeared ;  while  in  some  varieties  of  pears  they  survive 
only  in  the  form  of  shrivelled,  barren,  and  useless  pips. 
But  the  banana,  more  than  any  other  plant  we  know  of, 
has  managcnl  for  many  centurica  to  do  without  seeds  alto- 
gether. The  cultivated  sort,  especially  in  America,  is 
quite  seedless,  and  the  plants  are  propagated  entirely  by 
suckers. 

Still,  you  can  never  wholly  circumvent  nature.  Expel 
her  with  a  pitchfork,  tamcii  usque  recurrit.  Now  nature 
has  settled  that  the  right  way  to  propagate  plants  is  by 
means  of  seedlings.  {Strictly  speaking,  indeed,  it  is  the 
only  way;  the  other  modes  of  growth  from  bulbs  or 
cuttings  are  not  really  propagation,  but  mere  reduplication 
by  splitting,  as  when  you  chop  a  worm  in  two,  and  a 
couple  of  worms  wriggle  off  contentedly  forthwith  in 
either  direction.  Just  so  when  you  divide  a  plant  by 
cuttings,  suckers,  slips,  or  runners ;  the  two  apparent 
plants  thus  produced  are  in  the  last  resort  only  separate 
parts  of  the  same  individual — one  and  indivisible,  like  the 
French  Republic.     Seedlings  are  absolutely  distinct  indi- 


222  DE  BANANA 

viduals  ;  tlicy  arc  the  product  of  the  pollen  of  one  plant 
and  the  ovules  of  another,  and  they  start  afresh  in  life  with 
some  chance  of  being  fairly  free  from  the  hereditary  taints 
or  personal  failings  of  either  parent.  But  cuttings  or 
suckers  are  only  the  same  old  plant  over  and  over  again  in 
fresh  circumstances,  transplanted  as  it  were,  but  not  truly 
renovated  or  rejuvenescent.  That  is  the  real  reason  why 
our  potatoes  are  now  all  going  to — well,  the  same  place  as 
the  army  has  been  going  ever  since  the  earliest  memories 
of  the  oldest  officer  in  the  whole  service.  We  have  gone 
on  growing  potatoes  over  and  over  again  from  the  tubers 
alone,  and  hardly  ever  from  seed,  till  the  whole  constitution 
of  the  potato  kind  has  become  permanently  enfeebled  by 
old  age  and  dotage.  The  eyes  (as  farmers  call  them)  are 
only  buds  or  underground  branches  ;  and  to  plant  potatoes 
as  we  jsually  do  is  nothing  more  than  to  multiply  the 
apparent  scions  by  fission.  Odd  as  it  may  sound  to  say  so, 
all  the  potato  vines  in  a  whole  field  are  often,  from  the 
strict  biological  point  of  view,  parts  of  a  single  much- 
divided  individual.  It  is  just  as  though  one  were  to  go  on 
cutting  up  a  single  worm,  time  after  time,  as  soon  as  he 
grew  again,  till  at  last  the  one  original  creature  had  mul- 
tiplied into  a  whole  colony  of  apparently  distinct  indivi- 
duals. Yet,  if  the  first  worm  happened  to  have  the  gout 
or  the  rheumatism  (metaphorically  bpeaking),  all  the  other 
worms  into  which  his  compound  personality  had  been 
divided  would  doubtless  suffer  from  the  same  complaints 
throughout  the  whole  of  their  joint  lifetimes. 

The  banana,  however,  has  very  long  resisted  the  inevit- 
able tendency  to  degeneration  in  plants  thus  artificially  and 
unhealthily  propagated.  Potatoes  have  only  been  in  culti- 
vation for  a  few  hundred  years ;  and  yet  the  potato 
constitution  has  become  so  far  enfeebled  by  the  practice  of 
growing  from  the  tuber  that  the  plants  now  fall  an  easy 


DE  BANANA  223 

prev  to  potato  fungus,  Colorado  beetles,  and  a  thousand 
other  persistent  enemies.  It  is  just  the  same  with  the 
vine  propagated  too  long  by  layers  or  cuttings,  its  health 
has  failed  entirely,  and  it  can  no  longer  resist  the  ravages 
of  the  phylloxera  or  the  slow  attacks  of  die  vine-disease 
fungus.  But  the  banana,  though  of  very  ancient  and 
positively  immemorial  antiquity  as  a  cultivated  plant, 
seems  somehow  gifted  with  an  extraordinary  power  of 
holding  its  own  in  spite  of  long-continued  unnatural  pro- 
pagation. For  thousands  of  years  it  has  been  grown  in 
Asia  in  tlie  seedless  condition,  and  yet  it  springs  as  heartily 
as  ever  still  from  the  underground  suckers.  Nevertheless, 
there  must  in  the  end  be  some  natural  limit  to  this  wonder- 
ful power  of  reproduction,  or  rather  of  longevity  ;  for,  in 
the  strictest  sense,  the  banana  bushes  that  now  grow  in  the 
negro  gardens  of  Trinidad  and  Demerara  are  part  and 
parcel  of  the  very  same  plants  which  grew  and  bore  fruit 
a  thousand  years  ago  in  the  native  compounds  of  the  Malay 
Archipelago. 

In  fact,  I  think  there  can  be  but  little  doubt  that  the 
banana  is  the  very  oldest  product  of  human  tillage.  i\Ian, 
we  must  remember,  is  essentially  by  origin  a  tropical 
animal,  and  wild  tropical  fruits  must  necessarily  have 
formed  his  earliest  food-stuffs.  It  was  among  them  of 
course  that  his  first  experiments  in  primitive  agriculture 
would  be  tried  ;  the  little  insignificant  seeds  and  berries  of 
cold  northern  regions  would  only  very  slowly  be  added  to 
his  limited  stock  in  husbandry,  as  circumstances  pushed 
some  few  outlving  colonies  northward  and  ever  northward 
toward  the  chillier  unoccupied  regions.  Now,  of  all  tropical 
fruits,  the  banana  is  certainly  the  one  that  best  repays  culti- 
vation. It  has  been  calculated  that  the  same  area  whicli  will ' 
produce  thirty-three  pounds  of  wheat  or  ninety-nine  pounds  \ 
of  potatoes  will  produce  4, 400  pounds  of  plantains  or  bananas,  ' 


224  DE  BANANA 

The  cultivation  of  the  various  varieties  in  India,  China, 
and  the  Malay  Archipelago  dates,  says  De  Candolle,  '  from 
an  epoch  impossible  to  realise.'  Its  diffusion,  as  that  great 
but  very  oracular  authority  remarks,  may  go  back  to  a 
period  *  contemporary  with  or  even  anterior  to  that  of  the 
human  races.'  What  this  remarkably  illogical  sentence 
may  mean  I  am  at  a  loss  to  comprehend ;  perhaps  M.  de 
Candolle  supposes  that  the  banana  was  originally  cultivated 
by  pre-human  gorillas  ;  perhaps  he  merely  intends  to  say 
that  before  men  began  to  separate  they  sent  special 
messengers  on  in  front  of  them  to  diffuse  the  banana  in 
the  different  countries  they  were  about  to  visit.  Even 
legend  retains  some  trace  of  the  extreme  antiquity  of  the 
species  as  a  cultivated  fruit,  for  Adam  and  Eve  are  said  to 
have  reclined  imder  the  shadov/  of  its  branches,  whence 
Linnaeus  gave  to  the  sort  known  as  the  plantain  the  Latin 
name  of  Musa  pciradisiaca.  If  a  plant  was  cultivated  in 
Eden  by  the  grand  old  gardener  and  his  wife,  as  Lord 
Tennyson  democratically  styled  them  (before  his  elevation 
to  the  peerage),  we  may  fairly  conclude  that  it  possesses  a 
very  respectable  antiquity  indeed. 

The  wild  banana  is  a  native  of  the  Malay  region, 
according  to  De  Candolle,  who  has  produced  by  far  the 
most  learned  and  unreadable  work  on  the  origin  of  domestic 
plants  ever  yet  written.  (Please  don't  give  me  undue  credit 
for  having  heroically  read  it  through  out  of  pure  love  of 
science  :  I  was  one  of  its  unfortunate  reviewers.)  The  wild 
form  produces  seed,  and  grows  in  Cochin  China,  the 
Philippines,  Ceylon,  and  Khasia.  Like  most  other  large 
tropical  fruits,  it  no  doubt  owes  its  original  development  to 
the  selective  action  of  monkeys,  hornbills,  parrots  and 
other  big  fruit-eaters ;  and  it  shares  with  all  fruits  of 
similar  origin  one  curious  tropical  peculiarity.  Most 
northern  berries,  Hke  the  strawberry,  the   raspberry,  the 


DE  BANANA  225 

currant,  and  the  blackberry,  developed  by  the  selective 
action  of  small  northern  birds,  can  be  popped  at  once  into 
the  mouth  and  eaten  whole ;  they  have  no  tough  outer 
rind  or  defensive  covering  of  any  sort.  But  big  tropical 
fruits,  which  lay  themselves  out  for  the  service  of  largo 
birds  or  monkeys,  have  always  hard  outer  coats,  because 
they  could  only  be  injured  by  smaller  animals,  who  would 
eat  the  pulp  without  helping  in  the  dispersion  of  the  useful 
seeds,  the  one  object  really  held  in  view  by  the  mother 
plant.  Often,  as  in  the  case  of  the  orange,  the  rind  even 
contains  a  bitter,  nauseous,  or  pimgent  juice,  while  at  times, 
as  in  the  pine-apple,  the  prickly  pear,  the  sweet-sop,  and 
the  cherimoyer,  the  entire  fruit  is  covered  with  sharp  pro- 
jections, stinging  hairs,  or  knobby  protuberances,  on  pur- 
pose to  warn  off  the  unauthorised  depredator.  It  was  this 
line  of  defence  that  gave  the  banana  in  the  first  instance 
its  thick  yellow  skin  *.  and,  looking  at  the  matter  from  the 
epicure's  point  of  view,  one  may  say  roughly  that  all 
tropical  fruits  have  to  be  skinned  before  they  can  be  eaten. 
They  are  all  adapted  for  being  cut  up  with  a  knife  and  fork, 
or  dug  out  with  a  spoon,  on  a  civilised  dessert-plate.  As 
for  that  most  delicious  of  Indian  fruits,  the  mango,  it  has 
been  well  said  that  the  only  proper  way  to  eat  it  is  over  a  tub 
of  water,  with  a  couple  of  towels  hanging  gracefully  across 
the  side. 

The  varieties  of  the  banana  are  infinite  in  number,  and, 
as  in  most  other  plants  of  ancient  cultivation,  they  shade 
off  into  one  another  by  infinitesimal  gradations.  Two  prin- 
cipal sorts,  however,  are  commonly  recognised — the  true 
banana  of  commerce,  and  the  common  plantain.  The 
banana  proper  is  eaten  raw,  as  a  fruit,  and  is  allowed  accord- 
ingly to  ripen  thoroughly  before  being  picked  for  market ; 
the  plantain,  which  is  the  true  food- stuff  of  all  the  equa- 
torial region  in  both  hemispheres,  is  gathered  green  and 


226  DE  BANANA 

roasted  as  a  vegetable,  or,  to  use  the  more  expressive  West 
Indian  negro  pln-ase,  as  a  bread-kind.  Millions  of  liuinan 
beings  in  Asia,  Africa,  America,  and  the  islands  of  the 
Pacific  Ocean  live  almost  entirely  on  the  mild  and  succulent 
but  tasteless  plantain.  Some  people  like  the  fruit ;  to  me 
personally  it  is  more  suggestive  of  a  very  flavourless  over-ripe 
pear  than  of  anything  else  in  heaven  or  earth  or  the  waters 
that  are  under  the  earth — the  latter  being  the  most  probable 
place  to  look  for  it,  as  its  taste  and  substance  are  decidedly 
watery.  Baked  dry  in  the  green  state  '  it  resembles  roasted 
chestnuts,'  or  rather  baked  parsnip ;  pulped,  and  boiled 
with  water  it  makes  '  a  very  agreeable  sweet  soup,'  almost 
as  nice  as  peasoup  with  brown  sugar  in  it  ;  and  cut  into 
slices,  sweetened,  and  fried,  it  forms  '  an  excellent  substi- 
tute for  fruit  pudding,'  having  a  flavour  much  like  that  of 
potatoes  d  la  maitre  dliotel  served  up  in  treacle. 

Altogether  a  fruit  to  be  sedulously  avoided,  the  plantain, 
though  millions  of  our  spiritually  destitute  African  brethren 
haven't  yet  for  a  moment  discovered  that  it  isn't  every  bit 
as  good  as  wheaten  bread  and  fresh  butter.  ^Missionary 
enterprise  will  no  doubt  before  long  enlighten  them  on 
this  subject,  and  create  a  good  market  in  time  for  Ameri- 
can flour  and  Manchester  piece-goods. 

Though  by  origin  a  Malayan  plant,  there  can  be  little 
doubt  thai  the  banana  had  already  reached  the  mainland 
of  America  and  the  West  India  Islands  long  before  ^e 
voyage  of  Columbus.  When  Pizarro  disembarked  upon 
the  coast  of  Peru  on  his  desolating  expedition,  the  mild- 
eyed,  melancholy,  doomed  Peruvians  flocked  dowrb>to  the 
shore  and  offered  him  bananas  in  a  lordly  dish.  Bede 
composed  of  banana  leaves  have  been  discovered  in  the 
tombs  of  the  Incas,  of  date  anterior,  of  course,  to  the 
Spanish  conquest.  How  did  they  get  there  ?  Well,  it  is 
clearly  an  absurd  mistake  to  suppose  that  Columbus  dis- 


DE  BANANA  227 

covered  America  ;  as  Artemus  Ward  pertinently  remarked, 
the  noble  Red  Indian  had  obviously  discovered  it  long 
before  him.  There  had  been  intercotu'se  of  old,  too,  between 
Asia  and  the  Western  Continent  ;  the  elephant-headed  god 
of  Mexico,  the  debased  traces  of  Buddhism  in  the  Aztec  reli- 
gion, the  singular  coincidences  between  India  and  Peru,  all 
seem  to  show  that  a  stream  of  communication,  however 
faint,  once  existed  between  the  Asiatic  and  American 
worlds.  Garcilaso  himself,  the  half-Indian  historian  of 
Peru,  says  that  the  banana  was  well  known  in  his  native 
country  before  the  conquest,  and  that  the  Indians  say  '  its 
origin  is  Ethiopia.'  In  some  strange  way  or  other,  then, 
long  before  Columbus  set  foot  upon  the  low  sandbank  of 
Cat's  Island,  the  banana  had  been  transported  from  Africa 
or  India  to  the  Western  hemisphere. 

If  it  were  a  plant  propagated  by  seed,  one  would  sup- 
pose that  it  was  carried  across  by  wind  or  waves,  wafted  on 
the  lect  of  birds,  or  accidentally  introduced  in  the  crannies 
of  drift  timber.  So  the  coco-nut  made  the  tour  of  the 
world  ages  before  either  of  the  famous  Cooks — the  Captain 
or  the  excursion  agent — had  rendered  the  same  feat  easy 
and  practicable;  and  so,  too,  a  number  of  American  plants 
have  fixed  their  home  in  the  tarns  of  the  Hebu'ides  or 
among  the  lonely  bogs  of  Western  Galway.  But  the 
banana  must  have  been  carried  by  man,  because  it  is  un- 
known in  the  wild  state  in  the  Western  Continent ;  and, 
as  it  is  practically  seedless,  it  can  only  have  been  trans- 
ported entire,  in  the  form  of  a  root  or  sucker.  An  exactly 
similar  proof  of  ancient  intercourse  between  the  two  worlds 
is  ajfforded  us  by  the  sweet  potato,  a  plant  of  undoubted 
American  origin,  which  was  nevertheless  naturalised  in 
China  as  early  as  the  first  centuries  of  the  Christian  era. 
Now  that  we  all  know  how  the  Scandinavians  of  the 
eleventh  century  went  to  Massachusetts,  which  they  called 


228  DE   BANANA 

Vineland,  and  how  the  ^Icxican  empire  had  some  know- 
ledge of  Accadian  astronomy,  people  are  beginning  to  dis- 
cover that  Columbus  himself  was  after  all  an  egregious 
humbug. 

In  the  old  world  the  cultivation  of  the  banana  and  the 
plantain  goes  back,  no  doubt,  to  a  most  immemorial  anti- 
quity. Our  Aryan  ancestor  himself,  Professor  Max  Midler's 
especial  protcfjc^  had  already  invented  several  names  for  it, 
which  duly  survive  in  very  classical  Sanskrit.  The  Greeks 
of  Alexander's  expedition  saw  it  in  India,  where  *  sages 
reposed  beneath  its  shade  and  ate  of  its  fruit,  whence  the 
botanical  name,  Musa  sapientuni.'  As  the  sages  in  ques- 
tion were  lazy  Brahmans,  always  celebrated  for  their 
immense  capacity  for  doing  nothing,  the  report,  as  quoted 
by  Pliny,  is  no  doubt  an  accurate  one.  But  the  accepted 
derivation  of  the  word  Musa  from  an  Arabic  original  seems 
to  me  highly  uncertain  ;  for  Linnteus,  who  first  bestowed 
it  on  the  genus,  called  several  other  allied  genera  by  such 
cognate  names  as  Urania  and  Heliconia.  If,  therefore, 
the  father  of  botany  knew  tliat  his  own  word  was  originally 
Arabic,  we  cannot  acquit  him  of  the  high  crime  and 
misdemeanour  of  deliberate  punning.  Should  the  Royal 
Society  get  wind  of  this,  something  serious  would  doubt- 
less happen  ;  for  it  is  well  known  that  the  possession  of  a 
sense  of  humour  is  absolutely  fatal  to  the  pretensions  of  a 
man  of  science. 

Besides  its  main  use  as  an  article  of  food,  the  banana 
serves  incidentally  to  supply  a  valuable  fibre,  obtained  from 
the  stem,  and  employed  for  weaving  into  textile  fabrics  and 
making  paper.  Several  kinds  of  the  plantain  tribe  are 
cultivated  for  this  purpose  exclusively,  the  best  known 
among  them  being  the  so-called  manilla  hemp,  a  plant 
largely  grown  in  the  Philippine  Islands.  Many  of  the 
finest  Indian  shawls  are  woven  from  banana  stems,  and 


DE  BANANA  229 

much  of  the  rope  that  we  use  in  our  houses  comos  from  the 
same   singuhir    origin.     I  know   notliing  more  strikingly 
iUustrative  of  the  extreme  complexity  of  our  modern  civili- 
sation than  the  way  in  which  we  thus  every  day  employ 
articles  of  exotic  manufacture  in  our  ordinary  life  without 
ever  for  a  moment  suspecting  or  inquiring  into  their  true 
nature.     ^Vhat  lady  knows  when  she  puts  on  her  delicate 
wrapper,  from  Liberty's  or  from  Swan  and  Kdgar's,  that 
the  material  from  which  it  is  woven  is  a  Mala}i)n  plantain 
stalk  ?     Who  ever  thinks  that  the  glycerine  for  our  chapped 
hands  comes  from   Travancore    coco-nuts,    and  that  the 
pure  butter  supplied  us  frcm  the  farm  in  the  country  is 
coloured   yellow  with  Jamaican   annatto?     We  break  a 
tooth,  as  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  has  pointed  out,  because 
the   grape-curers  of  Zante  are  not  careful  enough  about 
excluding  small  stones  from  their  stock  of  currants ;  and 
we  suffer  from  indigestion  because  the  Cape  wine-grower 
has  doctored  his  light  Burgundies  with  Brazilian  logwood 
and  white  rum,  to  make  them  taste  like  Portuguese  port. 
Take  merely  this  very  question  of  dessert,  and  how  in- 
tensely complicated  it  really  is.     The  ^^'est  Indian  bananas 
keep  company  with  sweet  St.  Michaels  from  the  Azores, 
and  with  Spanish  cobnuts  from  Barcelona.     Dried  fruits 
from  Metz,  figs  from  Smyrna,  and  dates  from  Tunis  lie 
side  by  side  on  our  table  with  Brazil  nuts  and  guava  jelly 
and  damson  cheese  and  almonds  and  raisins.    We  forget 
where   everything  comes  from  nowadays,  in  our  general 
consciousness  that  they  all  come  from  the  Queen  Victoria 
Street  Stores,  and  any  real  knowledge  of  common  objects 
is  rendered  every  day  more  and  more  impossible  by  the 
bewildering  complexity  and  variety,  every  day  increasing, 
of   the    common    obiects    themselves,   their   substitutes, 
adulterates,  and  spurious  imitations.     Why,  you  probably 
never  heard  of  manilla  hemp  before,  until  this  very  minute, 


230  DE  BANANA 

and  yet  you  have  been  familiarly  using  it  all  your  lifetime, 
while  400,000  hundredweights  of  that  useful  article  are 
annually  iniporti'd  into  this  country  alone.  It  is  an  in- 
teresting study  to  take  any  day  a  list  of  market  quotations, 
and  ask  oneself  about  every  material  quoted,  what  it  is  and 
what  they  do  with  it. 

For  example,  can  you  honestly  pretend  that  you  really 
understand  the  use  and  importance  of  that  valuable  object 
of    everyday   demand,   fustic?     I   remember   an   ill-used 
telegraph  clerk  in  a  tropical  colony  once  complaining  to  me 
that  English  cable  operators  were  so  disgracefully  ignorant 
about  this  important  staple  as  invariably  to  substitute  for 
its  name  the  word  'justice  '  in  all  telegrams  which  origin- 
ally referred  to  it.     Have  you  any  clear  and  definite  notions 
as  to  the  prime  origin  and  final  destination  of  a  thing 
called  jute,  in  whose  sole  manufacture  the  whole  great  and 
flourishing  town  of  Dundee  lives  and  moves  and  has  its 
being?    What  is  turmeric  ?    Whence  do  we  obtain  vanilla  ? 
How  many  commercial  products  are  yielded  by  the  orchids  ? 
How  many   totally  distinct  plants  in  different   countries 
afford  the   totally  distinct   starches    lumped   together  in 
grocers'  lists  under  the  absurd  name  of  arrowroot  ?     When 
you  ask  for  sago  do  you  really  see  that  you  get  it  ?  and 
how  many  entirely  different  objects  described  as  sago  are 
known  to  commerce  ?    Define  the  uses  of  partridge  canes 
and  cohune  oil.     What  objects  are  generally  manufactured 
from  tucum  ?     Would  it  surprise  you  to  learn  that  English 
door-handles  are  commonly  made  out  of  coquilla  nuts  ? 
that  your  wife's  buttons   are  turned  from  the  indurated 
fruit  of  the  Tagua  palm  ?  and  that  the  knobs  of  umbrellas 
grew    originally    in    the  remote   depths   of  Guatemalan 
forests  ?    Are  you  aware  that  a  plant  called  manioc  sup- 
plies the  starchy  food  of  about  one-half  the  population  of 
tropical  America?     These  are  the  sort  of  inquiries  with 


DE  BANANA  231 

which  a  new  eilition  of  •  Miin^^'naH's  Questions  '  would  liave 
to  bo  filled ;  and  as  to  answeiinijf  them — why,  even  the 
pupil-teaehei'H  in  a  London  Board  School  (who  represent, 
I  suppose,  the  higliest  attainable  level  of  human  know- 
ledge) would  often  find  themselves  completi'ly  nonplussed. 
The  fact  is,  tropical  trade  has  opened  out  so  rapidly  and  so 
wonderfully  that  nobody  knows  much  about  the  chief 
articles  of  tropical  growth  ;  we  go  on  using  them  in  an  un- 
inquiring  spirit  of  childlike  faith,  much  as  tlie  Jamaica 
negroes  go  on  using  articles  of  European  manufacture 
about  whose  origin  they  are  so  ridiculously  ignorant  that 
one  young  woman  once  asked  me  whether  it  was  really  true 
that  cotton  handkerchiefs  were  dug  up  out  of  the  ground 
over  in  England.  Some  dim  confusion  between  coal  or 
iron  and  Manchester  piece-goods  seemed  to  have  taken  firm 
possession  of  her  infantile  imagination. 

Tluit  is  why  I  have  thought  that  a  treatise  De  Banana 
might  not,  perhaps,  be  wholly  without  its  usefulness  to  the 
modern  English  reading  world.  After  all,  a  food-stuff 
which  supports  hundreds  of  millions  among  our  beloved 
tropical  fellow-creatures  oug]it  to  be  very  dear  to  the  heart 
of  a  nation  which  governs  (and  annually  kills)  more  black 
people,  taken  in  the  mass,  than  all  the  other  European 
powers  put  together.  We  have  introduced  the  blessings  of 
British  rule — the  good  and  well-paid  missionary,  the  Rem- 
ington rifle,  the  red-cotton  pocket-handkerchief,  and  the 
use  of  *  the  liquor  called  rum  ' — into  so  many  remote 
corners  of  the  tropical  world  that  it  is  high  time  we  should 
begin  in  return  to  learn  somewhat  about  fetiches  and  fustic, 
Jamaica  and  jaggery,  bananas  and  Buddhism.  We  know 
too  little  still  about  our  colonies  and  dependencies.  '  Cape 
Breton  an  island ! '  cried  King  George's  Minister,  the  Duke 
of  Newcastle,  in  the  well-known  story,  '  Cape  Breton  an 
island  !  Why,  so  it  is  !  God  bless  my  soul  !  I  must  go  and 


232  DE  BANANA 

tell  the  King  that  Cape  Breton's  an  island.  That  was  a 
hundred  years  ago ;  but  only  the  other  day  the  Board  of 
Trade  placarded  all  our  towns  and  villages  with  a  flaming 
notice  to  the  effect  that  tlio  Colorado  beetle  had  made  its 
appearance  at  *  a  town  in  Canada  called  Ontario,'  and  might 
soon  be  expected  to  arrive  at  Liverpool  by  Cunard  steamer. 
The  right  honourables  and  other  high  mightinesses  who 
put  forth  the  notice  in  question  were  evidently  unaware 
that  Ontaxio  is  a  province  as  big  as  England,  including  in 
its  borders  Toronto,  Ottawa,  Kingston,  London,  Hamilton, 
and  other  large  and  flourishing  towns.  Apparently,  in 
spite  of  competitive  examinations,  the  schoolmaster  is  still 
abroad  in  the  Government  offices. 


GO  TO  THE  ANT  233 


00   TO   THE  ANT 

In  the  marliet-place  at  Santa  F^,  in  Mexico,  peasant 
women  from  the  neighbouring  villages  bring  in  for  sale 
trayfuls  of  living  ants,  each  about  as  big  and  round  as  a 
large  white  currant,  and  each  entirely  filled  with  honey  or 
grape  sugar,  much  appreciated  by  the  ingenuous  Mexican 
youth  as  an  excellent  substitute  for  Everton  toffee.  The 
method  of  eating  them  would  hardly  command  the  appro- 
bation of  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to 
Animals.  It  is  simple  and  primitive,  but  decidedly  not 
humane.  Ingenuous  youth  holds  the  ant  by  its  head  and 
shoulders,  sucks  out  the  honey  with  which  the  back  part  is 
absurdly  distended,  and  throws  away  the  empty  body  as  a 
thing  with  which  it  has  now  no  further  sympathy.  Maturer 
age  buys  the  ants  by  the  quart,  presses  out  the  honey 
through  a  muslin  strainer,  and  manufactures  it  into  a  very 
sweet  intoxicating  drink,  something  like  shandygaff,  as  I 
am  credibly  informed  by  bold  persons  who  have  ventured 
to  experiment  upon  it,  taken  internally. 

The  curious  insect  which  thus  serves  as  an  animated 
sweetmeat  for  the  Mexican  children  is  the  honey-ant  of 
the  Garden  of  the  Gods  ;  and  it  affords  a  beautiful 
example  of  Mandeville's  charming  paradox  that  personal 
vices  are  public  benefits — vitia  privata  humana  commoda. 
The  honey-ant  is  a  greedy  individual  who  has  nevertheless 
nobly  devoted  himself  for  the  good  of  the  community  by 


234  00  TO  tup:  ant 

converting  liimsclf  into  a  living'  honey -jar,  from  which  all 
the  other  ants  in  liis  own  nest  may  help  themselves  freely 
from  time  to  time,  as  occasion  demands.  The  tribe  to 
wliicli  lio  belonfj's  lives  under<,'round,  in  a  dome-roofed 
vault,  and  only  one  particular  caste  among  the  workers, 
known  as  rotunds  from  their  expansive  girth,  is  told  off 
for  this  special  duty  of  storing  hoiu^y  within  their  own 
bodies.  Clinging  to  tlie  top  of  their  nest,  with  their  round, 
transparent  abdomens  hanging  down  loosely,  mere  globules 
of  skin  enclosing  the  pale  amber-coloured  honey,  these 
Daniel  Land)erts  of  the  insect  race  look  for  all  the  world 
like  clusters  of  the  little  American  Delaw'aro  grapes,  with 
an  ant's  legs  and  liead  stuck  awkwardly  on  to  the  end 
instead  of  a  stulk.  Tlu'y  have,  in  fact,  realised  in  every- 
day life  the  awful  fate  of  Mr.  Gilbert's  discontented  sugar- 
broker,  who  laid  on  flesh  and  '  adipose  deposit '  until  ho 
became  converted  at  last  into  a  perfect  rolling  ball  of 
globular  humanity. 

The  manners  of  the  honoy-ant  race  are  very  simple. 
]Most  of  the  members  of  each  community  are  active  and 
roving  in  their  dispositions,  and  show  no  tendency  to  undue 
distension  of  the  nether  extremities.  They  go  out  at 
night  and  collect  nectar  or  honey-dew  froni  the  gall-insects 
on  oak-trees  ;  for  the  gall-insect,  like  love  in  tlie  old  Latin 
saw,  is  fruitful  both  in  sweets  and  hitter's,  mdle  ctfelle. 
This  nectar  they  then  carry  home,  and  give  it  to  the  rotunds 
or  honey-bearers,  who  swallow  it  and  store  it  in  their  round 
abdomen  until  they  can  hold  no  more,  having  stretched 
their  skins  literally  to  the  very  point  of  bursting.  They 
pass  their  time,  like  the  Fat  Boy  in  *  Pickwic  k,'  chiiifly  in 
sleeping,  but  they  cling  upside  down  meanwhile  to  the 
roof  of  their  residence.  When  the  workers  in  turn 
require  a  meal,  they  go  up  to  the  nearest  honey-bearer  and 
stroke  her  gently  with  their  antennie.     The  honey-bearer 


GO  TO  THE  ANT  235 

thereupon  throws  up  her  head  and  regiu-gitatos  a  hivgo  drop 
of  the  amber  hc^uid.  ('  llegiu'gitates  '  is  a  good  word  which 
I  borrow  from  Dr.  McCook,  of  Philadeljjhia,  the  great 
autliority  upon  lioney-ants  ;  and  it  saves  an  innncnse  deal 
of  trouble  in  looking  about  for  a  re.speftable  peripbrasis.) 
The  workers  feed  up(m  the  drops  tliiis  exuded,  two  or  thnni 
at  once  often  standing  around  the  living  honey-jar,  and 
hipping  nectar  together  from  the  lips  of  their  devoted 
conu'ade.  Tliis  may  seem  at  iirst  sight  rather  an  unpleasant 
practice  on  the  part  of  the  ants  ;  but  after  all,  how  does  it 
really  diller  from  our  own  habit  of  eating  honey  which  has 
been  treated  in  very  much  the  same  uusopliisticated 
manner  by  the  domestic  bee  ? 

Worse  things  than  these,  however,  Dr.  McCook  records  to 
the  discredit  of  the  Colorado  honey-ant.   When  he  wasopcn- 
ing  some  nests  in  the  Clarden  of  the  Gods,  he  happened  acci- 
dentally to  knock  down  some  of  the  rotunds,  which  straight- 
way burst  asunder  in  the  middle,  and  scattered  their  store 
of  lioney  on  the  lloor  of  the  nest.     At  once  the  other  ants, 
tempted  away  from  their  instinctive  task  of  carrying  off  the 
cocoons  and  young  grubs,  clustered  around  their  unfortunate 
companion,  like  street  boys  around  a  broken  molasses  barrel, 
and,  instead  of  forming  themselves  forthwith  into  avolunteer 
ambulance  company,  proceedt'd  immediately  to  lap  up  the 
honey  from  their  dying  brother.     On  the  other  hand  it  must 
be  said,  to  the  credit  of  the  race,  that  (unlike  the  members 
of  Arctic  expeditions)  they  never  desecrate  the  remains  of 
the  dead.     When  a  honey-bearer  dies  at  his  post,  a  victim 
to  his  zeal  for  the  common  good,  the  workers  carefully 
remove  his  cold  corpse  from  the  roof  where  it  still  clings, 
clip  off  the  head  and  shoulders  from  the  distended  abdomen, 
and  convey  their  deceased  brother  piecemeal,  in  two  detach- 
ments, to  the  formican  cemetery,  undisturbed.     If  they 
chose,  they  might  only  bury  the  front  half  of  their  late  rela- 
IG 


236  GO  TO  THE  ANT 

tion,  while  they  retained  his  remaining  moiety  as  an  avail- 
able honey-bag  :  but  from  this  cannibal  proceeding  ant- 
etiquette  recoils  in  decent  horror ;  and  the  amber  globes 
are  '  pulled  up  galleries,  rolled  along  rooms,  and  bowled 
into  the  graveyard,  along  with  the  juiceless  heads,  legs,  and 
other  members.'  Such  fraternal  condiict  would  be  very 
creditable  to  the  worker  honey-ants,  were  it  not  for  a 
horrid  doubt  insinuated  by  Dr.  McCook  that  perhaps  the 
insects  don't  know  they  could  get  at  the  honey  by  breaking 
up  the  body  of  their  lamented  relative.  If  so,  their  apparent 
disregard  o.  utilitarian  considerations  may  really  be  due  not 
to  their  sentimentality  but  to  their  hopeless  stupidity. 

The  reason  why  the  ants  have  taken  thus  to  storing 
honey  in  the  living  bodies  of  their  own  fellov^s  is  easy 
enough  to  understand.  They  want  to  lay  up  for  the  future 
like  prudent  insects  that  they  are ;  but  they  can't  make 
wax,  as  the  bees  do,  and  they  have  not  yet  evolved  the 
purely  human  art  of  pottery.  Consequently — happy  thought 
— why  not  tell  ofif  some  of  our  number  to  act  as  jars  on  be- 
half of  the  others?  Some  of  the  community  work  by 
going  out  and  gathering  honey  ;  they  also  serve  who  only 
stand  and  wait — who  receive  it  from  the  workers,  and  keep 
it  stored  up  in  their  own  capacious  indiarubber  maws  till 
further  notice.  So  obvious  is  this  plan  for  converting  ants 
into  animated  honey-jars,  that  several  different  kinds  of 
ants  in  different  parts  of  the  world,  belonging  to  the  most 
widely  distinct  families,  have  independently  hit  upon  the 
very  self-same  device.  Besides  the  Mexican  species,  there 
is  a  totally  different  Australian  honey-ant,  and  another 
equally  separate  in  Borneo  and  Singapore.  This  last  kind 
does  not  store  the  honey  in  the  hind  part  of  the  body 
technically  known  as  the  abdomen,  but  in  the  middle  divi- 
sion which  naturalists  call  the  thorax,  where  it  forms  a 
transparent  bladder-like  swelling,  and  makes  the  creature 


GO  TO  THE  ANT  237 

look  as  though  it  were  suffering  with  an  acute  attack  of 
dropsy.  In  any  case,  the  life  of  a  honey-bearer  must  he 
singularly  uneventful,  not  to  say  dull  and  monotonous ;  but 
no  doubt  any  small  inconvenience  in  this  respect  must  be 
more  than  compensated  for  by  the  glorious  consciousness 
that  one  is  sacrificing  one's  own  personal  comfort  for  the 
common  good  of  universal  anthood.  Perhaps,  however, 
the  ants  have  not  yet  reached  the  Positivist  stage,  and  may 
be  totally  ignorant  of  the  enthusiasm  of  formicity. 

Equally   curious  are   the  habits   and  manners  of  the 
harvesting  ants,  the  species  which  Solomon  seems  to  have 
had  specially  in  view  when  he  advised  his  hearers  to  go  to 
the  ant — a  piece  of  advice  which  I  have  also  adopted  as  the 
title  of  the  present  article,  though  I  by  no  means  intend 
thereby    to    insinuate   that   the    readers  of  this   volume 
ought   properly  to  be   classed   as   sluggards.     These   in- 
dustrious little   creatures  abound  in  India  :  they  are   so 
small  that  it  takes  eight  or  ten  of  them  to  carry  a  single 
grain  of  wheat  or  barley  ;  and  yet  they  will  patiently  dra?? 
along  their  big  burden  for  five  hundred  or  a   thousand 
yards  to  the  door  of  their  formicary.     To  prevent  the  grain 
from  germinating,  they  bite  off  the  embryo  root — a  piece 
of  animal  intelligenca  outdone  by  another  species  of  ant, 
which  actually  allows  the  process  of  budding  to  begin,  so 
as  to  produce  sugar,  as  in  malting.     After  tlie  last  thunder- 
storms of  the  monsoon  the  little  prop'"'etors  bring  up  all 
the  grain  from  their  granaries  to  dry  in  the  tropical  sun- 
shine.    The  quantity  of  grain  stored  up  by  the  harvesting 
ants  is  often  so  large  that  the  hair-splitting  Jewish  casuists 
of  the  Mishna  have  seriously  discussed  the  question  whether 
it  belongs  to  the  landowner  or  may  lawfully  be  appropriated 
by  the  gleaners.     '  They  do  not  appear,'  says  Sir  Johu 
Lubbock, '  to  have  considered  the  rights  of  the  ants.'     In- 
deed our  duty  towards  insects  is  a  question  which  seems 


238  GO  TO  THE  ANT 

hitherto  to  have  escaped  the  notice  of  all  moral  philosophers. 
Even  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  the  prophet  of  individualism, 
lias  never  taken  exception  to  onr  gross  disregard  of  tlio 
proprietary  rights  of  bees  in  their  honey,  or  of  silkworms 
in  their  cocoons.  Tliere  are  signs,  however,  that  the 
obtuse  human  conscience  is  awakening  in  this  respect ;  for 
when  Dr.  Loew  suggested  to  bee-keepers  the  desirability 
of  testing  the  commercial  value  of  honey-ants,  as  rivals  to 
the  bee.  Dr.  McCook  replied  that  '  the  sentiment  against 
the  use  of  honey  thus  taken  from  living  insects,  which  is 
worthy  of  all  respect,  would  not  be  easily  overcome.' 

There  are  no  harvesting  ants  in  Northern  Europe, 
though  they  extend  as  far  as  Syria,  Italy,  and  the  Eivicra, 
in  which  latter  station  I  have  often  observed  them  busily 
working.  What  most  careless  observers  talve  for  grain  in 
the  nests  of  English  ants  are  of  course  really  the  cocoons 
of  the  pupjE.  For  many  years,  therefore,  entomologists 
were  under  the  impression  that  Solomon  had  fallen  into 
this  popular  error,  and  that  when  he  described  the  ant  as 
'  gathering  her  food  in  the  harvest '  and  '  preparing  her 
meat  in  the  summer,'  he  was  speaking  rother  as  a  poet 
than  as  a  strict  naturalist.  Later  observations,  however, 
have  vindicated  the  general  accuracy  of  the  much-married 
king  by  showing  that  true  harvesting  ants  do  actually 
occur  in  Syria,  and  that  they  lay  by  stores  for  the  winter 
in  the  very  way  stated  by  that  early  entomologist,  whose 
knowledge  of  '  creeping  things '  is  specially  enumerated  in 
the  long  list  of  his  universal  accomplishments. 

Dr.  Lincecum  of  Texan  fame  has  even  improved  upon 
Solomon  by  his  discovery  of  those  still  more  interesting 
and  curious  creatures,  the  agricultural  ants  of  Texas. 
America  is  essentially  a  farming  country,  and  the  agricul- 
tural ants  are  born  farmers.  They  make  regular  clearings 
around  their  nests,   and   on  these   clearings   they  allow 


GO  TO  THE  ANT  239 

nothing  to  grow  except  a  particular  kind  of  grain,  known 
as  ant-rice.  Dr,  Lincecum  maintains  that  the  tiny  farmers 
actually  sow  and  cultivate  the  ant-rice.  Dr.  McCook,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  of  opinion  that  the  rice  sows  itself,  and 
that  the  insects'  part  is  limited  to  preventing  any  other 
plants  or  weeds  from  encroaching  on  the  appropriated  area. 
In  any  case,  be  they  squatters  or  planters,  it  is  certain  that 
the  rice,  when  ripe,  is  duly  harvested,  and  that  it  is,  to  say 
the  least,  encouraged  by  the  ants,  to  the  exclusion  of  all 
other  competitors.  '  After  the  maturing  and  harvesting  of 
the  seed,'  says  Dr.  Lincecum,  'the  dry  stubble  is  cut  away 
and  removed  from  the  pavement,  which  is  thus  left  fallow 
until  the  ensuing  autumn,  when  the  same  species  of  grass, 
and  in  th*^  same  circle,  appears  again,  and  receives  the 
same  agricultural  care  as  did  the  previous  crop.'  Sir 
John  Lubbock,  indeed,  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  the  three 
stages  of  human  progress — the  hunter,  the  herdsman,  and 
the  agriculturist — are  all  to  be  found  among  various  species 
of  existing  ants. 

The  Saiiba  ants  of  tropical  America  carry  their  agricul- 
tural operations  a  step  further.  Dwelling  in  underground 
nests,  they  sally  forth  upon  the  trees,  and  cut  out  of  the 
leaves  large  round  pieces,  about  as  big  as  a  shilling.  These 
pieces  they  drop  upon  the  ground,  where  another  detach- 
ment is  in  waiting  to  convey  them  to  the  galleries  of  the 
nest.  There  they  store  enormous  quantities  of  these 
round  pieces,  which  they  allow  to  decay  in  the  dark,  so 
as  to  form  a  sort  of  miniature  mushroom  bed.  On  the 
mouldering  vegetable  heap  they  have  thus  piled  up,  they 
induce  a  fungus  to  grow,  and  with  this  fungus  they  feed 
their  young  grubs  during  their  helpless  infancy.  Mr.  Belt, 
the  '  Naturalist  in  Nicaragua,'  found  that  native  trees 
Buffered  far  less  from  their  depredations  than  imported 
ones.     The  ants  hardly  touched  the  local  forests,  but  they 


240  GO  TO  THE  ANT 

stripped  young  plantations  of  orange,  coffee,  and  mango 
trees  stark  naked.  He  ingeniously  accounts  for  this  curious 
fact  by  supposing  that  an  internecine  struggle  has  long 
been  going  on  in  the  countries  inhabited  by  the  Saiibas 
between  the  ants  and  the  forest  trees.  Those  trees  that 
best  resisted  the  ants,  owing  either  to  some  unpleasant 
taste  or  to  hardness  of  foliage,  have  in  the  long  run  sur- 
vived destruction  ;  but  those  wliich  were  suited  for  the 
purpose  of  the  ants  have  been  reduced  to  nonentity,  while 
the  ants  in  turn  were  getting  slowly  adapted  to  attack 
other  trees.  In  this  way  almost  all  the  native  trees  have 
at  last  acquired  some  special  means  of  protection  against 
the  ravages  of  the  leaf-cutters  ;  so  that  they  immediately 
fall  upon  all  imported  and  unprotected  kinds  as  their 
natural  prey.  This  ingenious  and  wholly  satisfactory  ex- 
planation must  of  course  go  far  to  console  the  Brazilian 
planters  for  the  frequent  loss  of  their  orange  and  coffee 
crops. 

Mr.  Alfred  Russel  Wallace,  the  co-discoverer  of  the 
Darwinian  theory  (whose  honours  he  waived  with  rare 
generosity  in  favour  of  the  older  and  more  distinguished 
naturalist),  tells  a  curious  story  about  the  predatory  habits 
of  these  same  Saiibas.  On  one  occasion,  when  he  was  wan- 
dering about  in  search  of  specimens  on  the  Rio  Negro,  he 
bought  a  peck  of  rice,  which  was  tied  up,  Indian  fashion,  in 
the  local  bandanna  of  the  happy  plantation  slave.  At  night 
he  left  his  rice  incautiously  on  the  bench  of  the  hu  t  where 
he  was  sleeping;  and  next  morning  the  Saiibas  had  riddled 
the  handkerchief  like  a  sieve,  and  carried  away  a  gallon  of 
the  grain  for  their  own  felonious  purposes.  The  under- 
ground galleries  which  they  dig  can  often  be  traced  for 
hundreds  of  yards  ;  and  Mr.  Hamlet  Clarke  even  asserts 
that  in  one  case  they  have  tunnelled  under  the  bed  of  a 
river  where  it  is  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide.     This  beats 


GO   TO  THE  ANT  241 

Brunei  on  liis  own  ground  into  the  proverbial  cocked  hat, 
both  for  depth  and  distance. 

Within  doors,  in  the  tropics,  ants  are  apt  to  put  them- 
selves obtrusively  forward  in  a  manner  little  gratifying  to 
any  except  the  enthusiastically  entomological  mind.  The 
winged  females,  after  tlieir  marriage  flight,  have  a  disagree- 
able habit  of  flying  in  at  the  open  doors  and  windows 
at  luncli  time,  settling  upon  the  table  like  the  Harpies  in 
the  iEneid,  and  then  quietly  shuflling  ofi  their  wings  one 
at  a  time,  by  holding  them  down  against  the  table-cloth 
with  one  leg,  and  running  away  vigorously  with  the  five 
others.  As  soon  as  they  have  thus  disembarrassed  them- 
selves of  their  superfluous  members,  they  proceed  to  run 
about  over  the  lunch  as  if  the  house  belonged  to  them, 
and  to  make  a  series  of  experiments  upon  the  edible 
qualities  of  the  different  dishes.  One  doesn't  so  much 
mind  tlieir  philosophical  inquiries  into  the  nature  of  the 
bread  or  even  the  meat ;  but  when  they  come  to  drowning 
themselves  by  dozens,  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  in  the 
soup  and  sherry,  one  feels  bound  to  protest  energetically 
against  the  spirit  of  martyrdom  by  which  they  are  too  pro- 
foundly animated.  That  is  one  of  the  slight  drawbacks 
of  the  realms  of  perpetual  summer  ;  in  the  poets  you  see 
only  one  side  of  the  picture — the  palms,  the  orchids,  the 
humming-birds,  the  great  trailing  lianas  :  in  practical  life 
you  see  the  reverse  side — the  thermometer  at  98°,  the 
tepid  drinking-water,  the  prickly  heat,  the  perpetual 
languor,  the  endless  shoals  of  aggressive  insects.  A  lady 
of  my  acquaintance,  indeed,  made  a  valuable  entomologi- 
cal collection  in  her  own  dining-room,  by  the  simple  process 
of  consigning  to  pill-boxes  all  the  moths  and  flies  and 
beetles  that  settled  upon  the  mangoes  and  star-apples  in 
the  course  of  dessert. 

Another    objectionable    habit    of  the    tropical  ants,. 


242  GO   TO  THE  ANT 

viewed  practically,  is  the  ir  total  disregard  of  vested  interests 
in  the  case  of  house  property.  Like  Mr.  George  and  his 
communistic  friends,  they  disbelieve  entirely  in  the  principle 
of  private  rights  in  real  estate.  They  -svill  cat  their  way 
through  the  beams  of  your  house  till  there  is  only  a  slender 
core  of  solid  wood  left  to  support  the  entire  burden.  I 
have  taken  down  a  rafter  in  my  own  house  in  Jamaica, 
originally  18  inches  thick  each  way,  with  a  sound  circular 
centre  of  no  more  than  6  inches  in  diameter,  upon  which  all 
the  weight  necessarily  fell.  With  the  material  extractedfrom 
the  wooden  beams  they  proceed  to  add  insult  to  injury  by  build- 
inglong  covered  galleries  right  acrosstheceilingof  your  draw- 
ing-room. As  may  be  easily  imagined,  these  galleries  do  not 
tend  to  improve  the  appearance  of  the  ceiling ;  and  it 
becomes  necessary  to  form  a  Liberty  and  Property  Defence 
League  for  the  protection  of  one's  personal  interests  against 
the  insect  enemy.  I  have  no  objection  to  ants  building 
galleries  on  their  own  freehold,  or  even  to  their  nationalising 
the  land  in  their  native  forests ;  but  I  do  object  strongly 
to  their  unwarrantable  intrusion  upon  the  domain  of  pri- 
vate life.  Expostulation  and  active  warfare,  however,  are 
equally  useless.  The  carpenter-ant  has  no  moral  sense, 
and  is  not  amenable  either  to  kindness  or  blows.  On  one 
occasion,  when  a  body  of  these  intrusive  creatures  had  con- 
structed an  absurdly  conspicuous  brown  gallery  straight 
across  the  ceiling  of  my  drawing-room,  I  determined  to 
declare  open  war  against  them,  and,  getting  my  black  ser- 
vant to  bring  in  the  steps  and  a  mop,  I  proceeded  to 
demolish  the  entire  gallery  just  after  breakfast.  It  was 
about  20  feet  long,  as  well  as  I  can  remember,  and  perhaps 
an  inch  in  diameter.  At  one  o'clock  I  returned  to  lunch. 
My  black  servant  pointed,  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  intelli- 
gent features,  to  the  wooden  ceiling.  I  looked  up ;  in 
those  three  hours  the  carpenter-ants  had  reconstructed  the 


GO  TO  THE  ANT  243 

entire  gallery,  and  were  doubtlesa  mocking  me  at  their 
ease,  with  their  uplifted  antennne,  luider  that  safe  shelter. 
I  retired  at  once  from  the  miequal  contest.  It  was  clearly 
impossible  to  go  on  knocking  down  a  fresh  gallery  every 
three  hours  of  the  day  or  night  throughout  a  whole  life- 
time. 

Ants,  says  Mr.  Wallace,  without  one  touch  of  satire, 
*  force  themselves  upon  the  attention  of  everyone  who  visits 
the  tropics.'  They  do,  indeed,  and  that  most  pungently  ; 
if  by  no  other  method,  at  least  by  the  simple  and  effectual 
one  of  stinging.  The  majority  of  ants  in  every  nest  are  of 
course  neuters,  or  workers,  that  is  to  say,  strictly  speaking, 
undeveloped  females,  incapable  of  laying  eggs.  But  they 
still  retain  the  ovipositor,  which  is  converted  into  a  sting, 
and  supplied  with  a  poisonous  liquid  to  eject  afterwards 
into  the  wound.  So  admirably  adapted  to  its  purpose  is 
this  beautiful  provision  of  nature,  that  some  tropical  ants 
can  sting  with  such  violence  as  to  make  your  leg  swell  and 
confine  you  for  some  days  to  your  room  ;  while  cases  have 
even  been  known  in  which  the  person  attacked  has  fainted 
with  pain,  or  had  a  serious  attack  of  fever  in  consequence. 
It  is  not  every  kind  of  ant,  however,  that  can  sting;  a 
great  many  can  only  bite  with  their  little  hard  horny  jaws, 
and  then  eject  a  drop  of  formic  poison  afterwards  into  the 
hole  caused  by  the  bite.  The  distinction  is  a  delicate 
physiological  one,  not  much  appreciated  by  the  victims  of 
either  mode  of  attack.  The  perfect  females  can  also  sting, 
but  not,  of  course,  the  males,  who  are  poor,  wretched,  use- 
less creatures,  only  good  as  husbands  for  the  community, 
and  dying  off  as  soon  as  they  have  performed  their  part  in 
the  world — another  beautiful  provision,  which  saves  the 
workers  the  trouble  of  killing  them  off,  as  bees  do  with 
drones  after  the  marriage  flight  of  the  queen  bee. 

The  blind  driver-ants  of  West  Africa  are  among  the 


244  GO  TO  THE  ANT 

very  few  species  that  render  any  service  to  man,  and  that, 
of  course,  only  incidentally.  Unlike  most  other  members 
of  their  class,  the  driver-ants  have  no  settled  place  of  resi- 
dence ;  they  are  vaj^abonds  and  wanderers  iijion  the  face  of 
the  earth,  formican  tramps,  blind  bogi^ars,  who  lead  a 
gipsy  existence,  and  k(!ep  j)crpetually  upon  the  move, 
smelling  their  way  cautiously  from  one  camping-place  to 
another.  They  march  by  night,  or  on  cloudy  days,  like 
wise  tropical  strategists,  and  never  expose  themselves  to 
the  heat  of  the  day  in  broad  sunshine,  as  though  they  were 
no  better  than  the  mere  numbered  British  Tommy  Atkins 
at  Coomassie  or  in  the  Soudan.  They  move  in  vast  armies 
across  country,  driving  everything  before  them  as  they  go  ; 
for  they  belong  to  the  stinging  division,  and  are  very 
voracious  in  their  personal  habits.  Not  only  do  they  eat 
up  the  insects  in  their  line  of  march,  but  they  fall  even 
upon  larger  creatures  and  upon  big  snakes,  which  they 
attack  first  in  the  eyes,  the  most  vulnerable  portion.  When 
they  reach  a  negro  village  the  inhabitants  turn  out  e?i 
masse,  and  run  away,  exactly  as  if  the  visitors  were  Eng- 
lish explorers  or  brave  Marines,  bent  upon  retaliating  for 
the  theft  of  a  knife  by  nobly  burning  down  King  Tom's 
town  or  King  Jumbo's  capital.  Then  the  negroes  wait  in 
the  jungle  till  the  little  black  army  has  passed  on,  after 
clearing  out  the  huts  by  the  way  of  everything  eatable. 
When  they  return  they  find  their  calabashes  and  saucepans 
licked  clean,  but  they  also  find  every  rat,  mouse,  lizard, 
cockroach,  gecko,  and  beetle  completely  cleared  out  from 
the  whole  village.  Most  of  them  have  cut  and  run  at  the 
first  approach  of  the  drivers ;  of  the  remainder,  a  few 
blanched  and  neatly-pi(!ked  skeletons  alone  remain  to  tell 
the  tale. 

As  I  wish  to  be  considered  a  veracious  historian,  I  will 
not  retail  the  further  strange  stories  that  still  find  their 


GO   TO  THE  ANT  245 

vray  into  books  of  natural  history  about  the  manners  and 
habits  of  these  bhnd  marauders.  They  cross  rivers,  the 
West  African  gossips  dechire,  by  a  number  of  devoted  in- 
dividuals flinginr*  themselves  first  into  the  water  as  a 
living  bridge,  like  so  many  six-legged  Marcus  Curtiuses, 
while  over  their  drowning  bodies  the  heedless  remainder 
march  in  safety  to  the  other  side.  If  the  story  is  not  true, 
it  is  at  least  well  invented  ;  for  the  ant-commonwealth 
everywhere  carries  to  the  extrcmest  pitch  the  old  lioman 
doctrine  of  the  absolute  subjection  of  the  individual  to  the 
State.  So  exactly  is  this  the  case  that  in  some  species 
there  are  a  few  large,  overgrown,  lazy  ants  in  each 
nest,  which  do  no  work  themselves,  but  accompany  the 
workers  on  their  expeditions ;  and  the  sole  use  of  these 
idle  mouths  seems  to  be  to  attract  the  attention  of  birds 
and  other  enemies,  and  so  distract  it  from  the  useful 
workers,  the  mainstay  of  the  entire  community.  It  is 
almost  as  though  an  army,  marching  against  a  tribe  of 
cannibals,  were  to  place  itself  in  the  centre  of  a  hollow 
square  formed  of  all  the  fattest  people  in  the  country, 
whose  fine  condition  and  fitness  for  killing  might  immedi- 
ately engross  the  attention  of  the  hungry  enemy.  Ants, 
in  fact,  have,  for  the  most  part,  already  reached  the 
goal  set  before  us  as  a  delightful  one  by  most  current 
schools  of  socialist  philosophers,  in  which  the  individual 
is  absolutely  sacrificed  in  every  way  to  the  needs  of  the 
community. 

The  most  absurdly  human,  however,  among  all  the 
tricks  and  habits  of  ants  are  their  well  known  cattle- 
farming  and  slave-holding  instincts.  Everybody  has  heard, 
of  course,  how  they  keep  the  common  rose-blight  as  milch 
cows,  and  suck  from  them  the  sweet  honey-dew.  But 
everybody,  probably,  does  not  yet  know  the  large  number 
of  insects  which  they  herd  in  one  form  or  another  as 


246  GO  TO  THE  ANT 

domesticated  animals.  Man  has,  at  most,  some  twenty  or 
thirty  such,  including  cows,  sheep,  horses,  donkeys,  camels, 
llamas,  alpacas,  reindeer,  dogs,  cats,  canaries,  pigs,  fowl, 
ducks,  geese,  turkeys,  and  silkworms.  But  ants  have  hun- 
dreds and  hundreds,  some  of  them  kept  obviously  for  pur- 
poses of  food  ;  others  apparently  as  pets  ;  and  yet  others 
again,  as  has  been  plausibly  suggested,  by  reason  of  super- 
stition or  as  objects  of  worship.  There  is  a  curious  blind 
beetlewhich  inhabits  ants' nests,  and  is  so  absolutely  depen- 
dent upon  its  hosts  for  support  that  it  has  even  lost  the 
power  of  feeding  itself.  It  never  quits  the  nest,  but  the  ants 
bring  it  in  food  and  supply  it  by  putting  the  nourishment 
actually  into  its  mouth.  But  the  beetle,  in  return,  seems 
to  secrete  a  sweet  liquid  (or  it  may  even  be  a  stimulant 
like  beer,  or  a  narcotic  like  tobacco)  in  a  tuft  of  hairs  near 
the  bottom  of  the  hard  wing-cases,  and  the  ants  often  lick 
this  tuft  with  every  appearance  of  satisfaction  and  enjoy- 
ment. In  this  case,  and  in  many  others,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  insects  are  kept  for  the  sake  of  food  or  some 
other  advantage  yielded  by  them. 

But  there  are  other  instances  of  insects  which  haunt 
ants'  nests,  which  it  is  far  harder  to  account  for  on  any  hypo- 
thesis save  that  of  superstitious  veneration.  There  is  a 
little  weevil  that  runs  about  by  hundreds  in  the  galleries 
of  English  ants,  in  and  out  among  the  free  citizens,  making 
itself  quite  at  home  in  their  streets  and  public  places,  but 
as  little  noticed  by  the  ants  themselves  as  dogs  are  in  our 
own  cities.  Then,  again,  there  is  a  white  woodlouse,  some- 
thing like  the  common  little  armadillo,  but  blind  from  having 
lived  so  long  underground,  which  walks  up  and  down  the 
lanes  and  alleys  of  antdom,  without  ever  holding  any  com- 
munication of  any  sort  with  its  hosts  and  neighbours.  In 
neither  case  has  Sir  John  Lubbock  ever  seen  an  ant  take 
the  slightest  notice  of  the  presence  of  these  strange  fellow- 


00  TO  THE  ANT  247 

lodgers.  '  One  miglit  almost  imagine,'  he  says,  *  that 
they  had  the  cap  of  invisibiHty.'  Yet  it  is  quite  clear 
that  the  ants  deliberately  sanction  tlie  renidencc  of  the 
weevils  and  woodlice  in  their  nests,  for  any  unauthorised 
intruder  would  immediately  be  set  upon  and  massacred 
outright. 

Sir  John  Lubbock  suggests  that  they  may  perhaps  be 
tolerated  as  scavengers  :  or,  again,  it  is  possible  that  they 
may  prey  upon  the  eggs  or  larvji^  of  some  of  the  parasites  to 
whose  attacks  the  ants  are  subject.  In  the  first  case,  their 
use  would  be  similar  to  that  of  the  wild  dogs  in  Constanti- 
nople or  the  common  black  John-crow  vultures  in  tropical 
America :  in  the  second  case,  they  would  be  about  equi- 
valent to  our  own  cats  or  to  the  hedgehog  often  put  in 
farmhouse  kitchens  to  keep  doAvn  cockroaches. 

The  crowning  glory  of  owning  slaves,  which  many  philo- 
sophic Americans  (before  the  war)  showed  to  be  the  highest 
and  noblest  function  of  the  most  advanced  humanity,  has  been 
attained  by  more  than  one  variety  of  anthood.  Our  great 
English  horse-ant  is  a  moderate  slaveholder  ;  but  the  big 
red  ant  of  Southern  Europe  carries  tho  domestic  institu- 
tion many  steps  further.  It  makes  regular  slave-raids 
upon  the  nests  of  the  small  brown  ants,  and  carries  off 
the  young  in  their  pupa  condition.  By-and-by  the  brown 
ants  hatch  out  in  the  strange  nest,  and  never  having  known 
any  other  life  except  that  of  slavery,  accommodate  them- 
selves to  it  readily  enough.  The  red  ant,  however,  is  still 
only  an  occasional  slaveowner ;  if  necessary,  he  can  get 
along  by  himself,  without  the  aid  of  his  little  brown  ser- 
vants. Indeed,  there  are  free  states  and  slave  states  of  red 
ants  side  by  side  with  one  another,  as  of  old  in  Maryland 
and  Pennsylvania :  in  the  first,  the  red  ants  do  their  work 
themselves,  like  mere  vulgar  Ohio  farmers  ;  in  the  second, 
they  get  their  work  done  for  them  by  their  industrious 


248  GO   TO   THE  ANT 

Uttlo  bro^vn  servants,  like  the  aristocratic  first  families  of 
Virujinia  before  the  earthquake  of  emancipation. 

Jiiit  there  are  other  degraded  anta,  -whose  lifo-history 
may  be  humbly  presented  to  tlie  consideration  of  the  Anti- 
Slavery  Society,  as  speaking  more  ckxiuently  than  any 
other  known  fact  for  the  demoralising  effect  of  slaveowning 
upon  the  slaveholders  themselves.  The  Swiss  rufescent 
ant  is  a  species  so  long  habituated  to  rely  entirely  upon  tho 
services  of  slaves  that  it  is  no  longer  able  to  manage  its 
own  affairs  when  depriv(>d  by  man  of  its  hereditary  bonds- 
men. It  has  lost  entirely  the  art  of  constructing  a  nest ; 
it  can  no  longer  tend  its  own  young,  whom  it  leaves  entirely 
to  the  care  of  negro  nurses  ;  and  its  bodily  structure  even 
has  changed,  for  the  jaws  have  lost  their  teetli,  and  have 
been  converted  into  mere  nippers,  useful  only  as  weapons 
of  war.  The  rufescent  ant,  in  fact,  is  a  purely  mihtary 
caste,  which  has  devoted  itself  entirely  to  the  i)ursuit  of 
arms,  leaving  every  other  form  of  activity  to  its  slaves  and 
dependents.  Ollicers  of  the  old  school  will  be  glad  to  learn 
that  this  military  insect  is  dressed,  if  not  in  scarlet,  at  any 
rate  in  very  decent  red,  and  that  it  refuses  to  be  bothered 
in  any  way  w^itli  questions  of  transport  or  commissariat. 
If  the  community  changes  its  nest,  the  masters  are  carried 
on  the  backs  of  their  slaves  to  the  new  position,  and  the 
black  ants  have  to  undertake  the  entire  duty  of  foraging  and 
bringing  in  stores  of  supply  for  their  gentlemanly  pro- 
prietors. Only  when  war  is  to  be  made  upon  neighbouring 
nests  does  the  thin  red  line  form  itself  into  long  lile  for 
active  service.  Nothing  could  be  more  perfectly  aristocratic 
than  the  views  of  life  entertained  and  acted  upon  by  those 
distinguished  slaveholders. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  picture  has  its  reverse  side, 
exhibiting  clearly  the  weak  points  of  the  slaveholding 
system.     The  rufescent  ant  has  lost  even  the  very  power  of 


GO  TO  THE  ANT  249 

foedinp:  itself.  So  conipletoly  dcpoiulcnt  is  each  upon  his 
little  black  valot  for  daily  bread,  that  he  cannot  so  much 
as  help  hinisolf  to  the  food  that  is  set  before  him.  Iliiber 
put  a  few  slav(>holders  into  a  box  with  some  of  their  own 
larvic  and  pnpje,  and  a  supply  of  honey,  in  order  to  see 
what  they  would  do  with  them.  Appalled  at  the  novelty 
of  the  situation,  the  slaveholders  seemed  to  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  something  must  be  done  ;  so  they  bej^an 
carrying  the  larva;  about  aimlessly  in  their  mouths,  and 
rushing  up  and  down  in  search  of  the  servants.  After  a 
while,  however,  they  gave  it  up  and  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  life  under  such  circumstances  was  clearly  intolerable. 
They  never  touched  the  honey,  but  resigned  themselves  to 
their  fate  'ike  ollicers  and  gentlemen.  In  less  than  two 
days,  half  of  them  had  died  of  hunger,  rather  than  taste  a 
dinner  which  was  not  supplied  to  them  by  a  properly  con- 
stituted footman.  A.dmiring  tlieir  heroism  or  pitying  their 
incapacity,  Iliiber  at  last  gave  them  just  one  slave  between 
them  all.  The  plucky  little  negro,  nothing  daunted  by  the 
gravity  of  the  situation,  set  to  work  at  once,  dug  a  small 
nest,  gathered  together  the  larvju,  helped  several  pupje  out 
of  the  cocoon,  and  saved  the  lives  of  the  surviving  slave- 
owners. Other  naturalists  have  tried  similar  experiments, 
and  always  with  the  same  result.  The  slaveowners  will 
starve  in  the  midst  of  plenty  rather  than  feed  tluMuselves 
without  attendance.  Either  tlu  y  cannot  or  will  not  put 
the  food  into  their  own  mouths  with  their  own  mandibles. 
There  are  yet  other  ants,  such  as  the  workerless  Ancr- 
(jatcs,  in  which  the  degradation  of  slaveholding  has  gone  yet 
further.  These  wretched  creatures  are  theformican  repre- 
sentatives of  those  Oriental  despots  who  are  no  longer  even 
warlike,  but  are  sunk  in  sloth  and  luxury,  and  pass  their 
lives  in  eating  bang  or  smoking  opium.  Once  upon  a  time, 
Sir  John  Lubbock  thinks,  the  ancestors  of  Ancrgatcs  were 


250  GO   TO   THE  ANT 

marauding  slaveowners,  who  attacked  and  made  serfs  of 
other  ants.  But  gradually  they  lost  not  only  their  arts  but 
even  their  military  prowess,  and  were  reduced  to  making 
war  by  stealth  instead  of  openly  carrying  off  their  slaves 
in  fair  battle.  It  seems  probable  that  they  now  creep  into 
a  nest  of  the  far  more  powerful  slave  ants,  poison  or 
assassinate  the  queen,  and  establish  themselves  by  sheer 
usurpation  in  the  queenless  nest.  'Gradually,'  says  Sir 
John  Lubbock,  ♦  even  their  bodily  force  dwindled  away 
under  the  enervating  influence  to  which  they  had  subjected 
themselves,  until  they  sank  to  their  present  degraded  con- 
dition— weak  in  body  and  mind,  few  in  numbers,  and 
apparently  nearly  extinct,  the  miserable  representatives  of 
far  superior  ancestors  maintaining  a  precarious  existence 
as  contemptible  parasites  of  their  former  slaves.'  One 
may  observe  in  passing  that  these  wretched  do-nothings 
cannot  have  been  the  ants  which  Solomon  commended  to 
the  favourable  consideration  of  the  sluggard  ;  though  it  is 
curious  that  the  text  was  never  pressed  into  the  service  of 
defence  for  the  peculiar  institution  by  the  advocates  of 
slavery  in  the  South,  who  were  always  most  anxious  to 
prove  the  righteousness  of  their  caus.,  by  most  sure  and 
certain  warranty  of  Holy  Scripture. 


BIG  ANIMALS  251 


BIG  ANIMALS 

*  The  Atlantosaurus,'  said  I,  pointing  affectionately  with  a 
wave  of  my  left  hand  to  all  t}iat  was  immortal  of  that  ex- 
tinct reptile,  *  is  estimated  to  have  had  a  total  length  of  one 
hundred  feet,  and  was  probably  the  very  biggest  lizard  that 
ever  lived,  even  in  Western  America,  where  his  earthly 
remains  were  first  disinhumed  by  an  enthusiastic  explorer.' 

*  Yes,  yes,'  my  friend  answered  abstractedly.  *  Of 
course,  of  course ;  things  were  all  so  very  big  in  those 
days,  you  know,  my  dear  fellow.' 

'  Excuse  me,'  I  replied  with  polite  incredulity ;  *  I  really 
don't  know  to  what  particular  period  of  time  the  phrase 
**  in  those  days  "  may  be  supposed  precisely  to  refer.' 

My  friend  shufiled  inside  his  coat  a  little  uneasily.  (I 
will  admit  that  I  was  taking  a  mean  advantage  of  him. 
The  professorial  lecture  in  private  life,  especially  when 
followed  by  a  strict  examination,  is  quite  undeniably  a  most 
intolerable  nuisance.)  *  Well,'  he  said,  in  a  crusty  voice, 
after  a  moment's  hesitation,  *  I  mean,  you  know,  in  geo- 
logical times  .  .  .  well,  there,  my  dear  fellow,  things  used 
all  to  be  so  very  big  in  those  days,  usedn't  they  '? ' 

I  took  compassion  upon  him  and  let  him  off  easily. 

*  You've  had  enough  of  the  museum,'  I  said  with  mag- 
nanimous self-denial.  '  The  Atlantosaurus  has  broken  the 
camel's  back.  Let's  go  and  have  a  quiet  cigarette  iu  the 
park  outside.' 

17 


252  BIG  ANIMALS 

But  if  you  suppose,  reader,  that  I  am  {,'oing  to  carry  my 
forbearance  so  far  as  to  let  you,  too,  off  the  remainder  of 
that  geological  disquisition,  you  are  certainly  very  much  mis- 
taken. A  discourse  which  would  be  quite  unpardonable  in 
social  intercourse  may  be  freely  admitted  in  the  privacy  of 
print  ;  because,  you  see,  wliile  you  can't  easily  tell  a  man 
that  his  conversation  bores  you  (though  some  people  just 
avoid  doing  so  by  an  infinitesimal  fraction),  you  can  shut 
up  a  book  whenever  you  like,  without  the  very  faintest 
or  remotest  risk  of  hurting  the  author's  delicate  suscep- 
tibilities. 

The  subject  of  my  discourse  naturally  divides  itself,  like 
the  conventional  sermon,  into  two  heads — the  precise 
date  of  *  geological  times,'  and  the  exact  bigness  of  the 
animals  that  lived  in  them.  And  I  may  as  well  begin  by 
announcing  my  general  conclusion  at  the  very  outset ; 
first,  that  '  those  days  '  never  existed  at  all ;  and,  secondly, 
that  the  animals  which  now  inhabit  this  particular  planet 
are,  on  the  whole,  about  as  big,  taken  in  the  lump,  as  any 
previous  contemporary  fauna  that  ever  lived  at  any  one 
time  together  upon  its  changeful  surface.  I  know  that  to 
announce  this  sad  conclusion  is  to  break  down  one  more 
universal  and  cherished  belief ;  everybody  considers  that 
•  geological  animals  '  were  ever  so  much  bigger  than  their 
modern  representatives  ;  but  the  interests  of  truth  should 
always  be  paramount,  and,  if  the  trade  of  an  iconoclast  is 
a  somewhat  cruel  one,  it  is  at  least  a  necessary  lunction 
in  a  world  so  ludicrously  overstocked  with  popular  delusions 
as  this  erring  planet. 

What,  then,  is  the  ordinary  idea  of  *  geological  time ' 
in  the  minds  of  people  like  my  good  friend  who  refused  to 
discuss  with  me  the  exact  antiquity  of  the  Atlantosaurian  ? 
They  think  of  it  all  as  immediate  and  contemporaneous,  a 
vast  panorama  of  innumerable  ages  being  all  crammed  for 


BIPx   ANIMALS  253 

them  on  to  a  single  mental  sheet,  in  wiiich  the  dotlo  and 
the  moa  hoh-an'-nob  amicably  with  the  pterodactyl  and 
the  ammonite ;  in  wliich  the  tertiary  megatherium  goes 
check  by  jowl  with  the  secondary  doinosuurs  and  the  })ri- 
mary  trilobites  ;  in  wliich  the  huge  herbivores  of  the  Paris 
Dasin  are  supposed  to  have  browsed  beneath  the  gigantic 
club-mosse's  of  the  Carboniferous  period,  and  to  luive  been 
successfully  hunted  by  the  great  marine  li/ards  and  flying 
dragons  of  the  Jurassic  Epoch.  Such  a  picture  is  really 
just  as  absurd,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  a  thousand 
times  absurder,  than  if  one  were  to  speak  of  those  grand 
old  times  when  Homer  and  Virgil  smoked  their  pipes  to- 
gether in  the  Mermaid  Tavern,  while  Shakespeare  and 
Moliere,  crowned  with  summer  roses,  sipped  their  Faler- 
nian  at  their  ease  beneath  the  whispering  palmwoods  of  the 
Nevsky  Prospect,  and  discussed  the  details  of  the  play  they 
were  to  produce  to-morrow  in  the  crowded  Colosseum,  on 
the  occasion  of  Napoleon's  reception  at  Memphis  by  his 
victorious  brother  emperors,  llamses  and  Sardanapalus. 
This  is  not,  as  the  inexperienced  reader  may  at  first  sight 
imagine,  a  literal  transcript  from  one  of  the  glowing  de- 
scriptions that  crowd  the  beautiful  pages  of  Ouida  ;  it  is  a 
faint  attempt  to  parallel  in  the  brief  moment  of  historical 
time  the  glaring  anachronisms  perpetually  committed  as 
regards  the  vast  lapse  of  geological  chronology  even  by 
well-informed  and  intelligent  people. 

We  must  remember,  then,  that  in  dealing  with  geologi- 
cal time  we  are  dealing  with  a  positively  awe-inspiring  and 
unimaginable  series  of  aeons,  each  of  wliich  occupied  its 
own  enormous  and  incalculable  epoch,  and  each  of  which 
saw  the  dawn,  the  rise,  the  culmination,  and  the  downfall 
of  innumerable  types  of  plant  and  animal.  On  the  cosmic 
clock,  by  whose  pendulum  alone  we  can  faintly  measure 
the  dim  ages  behind  us,  the  brief  lapse  of  historical  time* 


254  BIG  ANIMALS 

from  the  earliest  of  Egyptian  dynasties  to  the  events  nar- 
rated in  this  evening's  Pall  Mall,  is  less  than  a  second,  less 
than  a  unit,  less  than  the  smallest  item  by  which  we  can 
possibly  guide  our  blind  calculations.  To  a  geologist  the 
temples  of  Karnak  and  the  New  Law  Courts  would  bo 
absolutely  contemporaneous ;  he  has  no  means  by  which 
he  could  discriminate  in  date  between  a  scarabaeus  of 
Thothmes,  a  denarius  of  Antonine,  and  a  bronze  farthing  of 
her  Most  Gracious  Majesty  Queen  Victoria.  Competent 
authorities  have  shown  good  grounds  for  believing  that  the 
Glacial  Epoch  ended  about  80,000  years  ago ;  and  every- 
thing that  has  happened  since  the  Glacial  Epoch  is,  from 
the  geological  point  of  view,  described  as  '  recent.'  A  shell 
embedded  in  a  clay  cliff  sixty  or  seventy  thousand  years 
ago,  while  short  and  swarthy  Mongoloids  still  dwelt  un- 
disturbed in  Britain,  ages  before  the  irruption  of  the 
*  Ancient  Britons '  of  our  inadequate  school-books,  is,  in 
the  eyes  of  geologists  generally,  still  regarded  as  purely 
modern. 

But  behind  that  indivisible  moment  of  recent  time, 
that  eighty  thousand  years  which  coincides  in  part  with  the 
fraction  of  a  single  swing  of  the  cosmical  pendulum,  there 
lie  hours,  and  days,  and  weeks,  and  months,  and  years, 
and  centuries,  and  ages  of  an  infinite,  an  illimitable,  an  in- 
conceivable past,  whose  vast  divisions  unfold  themselves 
slowly,  one  beyond  the  other,  to-  our  aching  vision  in  the 
half-deciphered  pages  of  the  geological  record.  Before  the 
Glacial  Epoch  there  comes  the  Pliocene,  immeasurably 
longer  than  the  whole  expanse  of  recent  time  ;  and  before 
that  again  the  still  longer  Miocene,  and  then  the  Eocene, 
immeasurably  longer  than  all  the  others  put  together. 
These  three  make  up  in  their  sum  the  Tertiary  period, 
which  entire  period  can  hardly  have  occupied  more  time 
in  its  passage  than  a  single  division  of  the  Secondary, 


BIG  ANIMALS  255 

Buch  as  the  Cretaceous,  or  the  Oolite,  or  the  Triassic ; 
and  the  Secondary  period,  once  more,  though  itself  of 
positively  appalling  duration,  seems  but  a  patch  (to  use  the 
expressive  modernism)  upon  the  unthinkable  and  unreali- 
sable  vastness  of  the  endless  successive  Primary  ceons.  So 
that  in  the  end  we  can  only  say,  like  Michael  Scott's 
mystic  head,  '  Time  was.  Time  is,  Time  will  be.'  The 
time  we  know  affords  us  no  measure  at  all  for  even  the 
nearest  and  briefest  epochs  of  the  time  we  know  not ;  and 
the  time  we  know  not  seems  to  demand  still  vaster  and 
more  inexpressible  figures  as  wo  pry  back  curiously,  with 
wondering  eyes,  into  its  dimmest  and  earliest  recesses. 

These  efforts  to  realise  the  unrealisable  make  one's 
head  swim  ;  let  us  hark  back  once  more  from  cosmical  time 
to  the  puny  bigness  of  our  earthly  animals,  living  or  extinct. 

If  we  look  at  the  whole  of  our  existing  fauna,  marine 
and  terrestrial,  we  shall  soon  see  that  we  could  bring  to- 
gether at  the  present  moment  a  very  goodly  collection  of 
extant  monsters,  most  parlous  monsters,  too,  each  about  as 
fairly  big  in  its  own  kind  as  almost  anything  that  has  ever 
preceded  it.  Every  age  has  its  own  specialiti  in  the  way 
of  bigness ;  in  one  epoch  it  is  the  lizards  that  take  sud- 
denly to  developing  overgrown  creatures,  the  monarch s  of 
creation  in  their  little  day  ;  in  another,  it  is  the  fishes  that 
blossom  out  unexpectedly  into  Titanic  proportions  ;  in  a 
third,  it  is  the  sloths  or  the  proboscideans  that  wax  fat  and 
kick  with  gigantic  members  ;  in  a  fourth,  it  may  be  the  birds 
or  the  men  that  are  destined  to  evolve  with  future  ages 
into  veritable  rocs  or  purely  realistic  Gargantuas  or  Brob- 
dingnagians.  The  present  period  is  most  undoubtedly  the 
period  of  the  cetaceans  ;  and  the  future  geologist  who  goes 
hunting  for  dry  bones  among  the  ooze  of  the  Atlantic,  now 
known  to  us  only  by  the  scanty  dredgings  of  our  *  Alerts ' 
and  '  Challengers,'  but  then  upheaved  into  snow-clad  Alps 


256  BIG   ANIMALS 

or  vine-covered  Apennines,  will  doubtless  stand  aghast  at 
the  huge  skeletons  of  our  whales  and  our  razorbacks,  and 
will  mutter  to  himself  in  awe-struck  astonishment,  in  the 
exact  words  of  my  friend  at  South  Kensington,  '  Things 
used  all  to  be  so  very  big  iu  those  days,  usedn't  they  ?  ' 

Now,  the  fact  as  to  the  comparative  size  of  our  own 
cetaceans  and  of  'geological'  animals  is  just  this.  The 
Atlantosaurus  of  the  Western  American  Jurassic  beds,  a 
great  erect  lizard,  is  the  very  largest  creature  ever  known 
to  have  inhabited  this  sublunary  sphere.  His  entire  length 
is  supposed  to  have  reached  about  a  hundred  feet  (for  no 
complete  skeleton  has  ever  been  discovered),  while  in  stature 
he  appears  to  have  stood  some  thirty  feet  high,  or  over.  In 
any  case,  he  was  undoubtedly  a  very  big  animal  indeed,  for 
his  thigh-bone  alone  measures  eight  feet,  or  two  feet  taller 
than  that  glory  of  contemporary  civilisation,  a  British  Grena- 
dier. This,  of  course,  implies  a  very  decent  total  of  height 
and  size ;  but  our  own  sperm  whale  frequently  attains  a  good 
length  of  seventy  feet,  while  the  rorquals  often  run  up  to 
eighty,  ninety,  and  even  a  hundred  feet.  We  are  thus  fairly 
entitled  to  say  that  we  have  at  least  one  species  of  animal 
now  living  which,  occasionally  at  any  rate,  equals  in  size 
the  very  biggest  and  most  colossal  form  known  inferentially 
to  geological  science.  Indeed  when  we  consider  tlie  extra- 
ordinary compactness  and  rotundity  of  the  modem  ceta- 
ceans, as  compared  with  the  tall  limbs  and  straggling 
skeleton  of  the  huge  Jurassic  deinosaurs,  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  that  the  tonnage  of  a  decent  modern  rorqual 
must  positively  exceed  that  of  the  gigantic  Atlantosaurus, 
the  great  lizard  of  the  went,  in  projJria  persona.  I  doubt, 
in  sliort,  whether  even  the  solid  thigh-bone  of  the  deino- 
saur  could  ever  have  supported  the  prodigious  weight  of  a 
full-grown  family  razor-back  whale.  The  mental  picture 
of  these  unwieldy  monsters  hopping  casually  about,  like 


BIO   ANIMALS  257 

Alice's  Gryphon  in  Tenniel's  famous  sketch,  or  hke  that 
still  more  parlous  brute,  the  chortling  Jabberwock,  must 
be  left  to  the  vivid  imagination  of  the  courteous  reader, 
who  may  fill  in  the  details  for  himself  as  well  as  he  is 
able. 

If  we  turn  from  the  particular  comparison  of  selected 
specimens  (always  an  unfair  method  of  judging)  to  the 
general  aspect  of  our  contemporary  fauna,  I  venture  con- 
fidently to  claim  for  our  own  existing  human  period  as  fine 
a  collection  of  big  animals  as  any  other  ever  exhibited  on 
this  planet  by  any  one  single  rival  epoch.  Of  course,  if 
you  are  going  to  lump  all  the  extinct  monsters  and  horrors 
into  one  imaginary  unified  fauna,  regardless  of  anachron- 
isms, I  have  nothing  more  to  say  to  you ;  I  will  candidly 
admit  that  there  were  more  great  men  in  all  previous 
generations  put  together,  from  Homer  to  Dickens,  from 
Agamemnon  to  Wellington,  than  there  are  now  existing  in 
this  last  quarter  of  our  really  very  respectable  nineteenth 
century.  But  if  you  compare  honestly  age  with  age,  one 
at  a  time,  I  fearlessly  maintain  that,  so  far  from  there 
being  any  falling  ofl:  in  the  average  bigness  of  things 
generally  in  these  latter  days,  there  are  more  big  things 
now  living  than  there  ever  were  in  any  one  single  epoch, 
even  of  much  longer  duration  than  the  '  recent '  period. 

I  suppose  we  may  fairly  say,  from  the  evidence  before 
us,  that  there  have  been  two  Augustan  Ages  of  big  animals 
in  the  history  of  our  earth — the  Jurassic  period,  which  was 
the  zenith  of  the  reptilian  type,  and  the  Pliocene,  which 
was  the  zenith  of  the  colossal  terrestrial  tertiary  mammals. 
I  say  on  purpose,  'from  the  evidence  before  us,'  because, 
as  I  shall  go  on  to  explain  hereafter,  I  do  not  myself  be- 
lieve that  any  one  age  has  much  surpassed  another  in  the 
general  size  of  its  fauna,  since  the  Permian  Epoch  at 
least ;  and  where  we  do  not  get  geological  evidence  of  the 


258  BIG  ANIMALS 

existence  of  big  animals  in  any  particular  deposit,  we  may 
take  it  for  granted,  I  think,  that  that  deposit  was  laid 
down  under  conditions  unfavourable  to  the  preservation  of 
the  remains  of  large  species.  For  example,  the  sediment 
now  being  accumulated  at  the  bottom  of  the  Caspian 
cannot  possibly  contain  the  bones  of  any  creature  much 
larger  than  the  Caspian  seal,  because  there  are  no  big 
species  there  swimming ;  and  yet  that  fact  does  not 
negative  the  existence  in  other  places  of  whales,  elephants, 
giraffes,  buffaloes,  and  hippopotami.  Nevertheless,  we 
can  only  go  upon  the  facts  before  us ;  and  if  we  compare 
our  existing  fauna  witli  the  fauna  of  Jurassic  and  Pliocene 
times,  we  shall  at  any  rate  be  putting  it  to  the  test  of  the 
severest  competition  that  lies  within  our  power  under  the 
actual  circumstances. 

In  the  Jurassic  age  there  were  undoubtedly  a  great 
many  very  big  reptiles.  *  A  monstrous  eft  was  of  old  the 
lord  and  master  of  earth  :  For  him  did  his  high  sun  flame 
and  his  river  billowing  ran :  And  he  felt  himself  in  his 
pride  to  be  nature's  crowning  race.'  There  was  the 
ichthyosaurus,  a  fishlike  marine  lizard,  familiar  to  us  all 
from  a  thousand  reconstructions,  with  his  long  thin  body, 
his  strong  flippers,  his  stumpy  neck,  and  his  huge  pair  of 
staring  goggle  eyes.  The  ichthyosaurus  was  certainly  a 
most  unpleasant  creature  to  meet  alone  in  a  narrow  strait 
on  a  dark  night ;  but  if  it  comes  to  actual  measurement, 
the  very  biggest  ichthyosaurian  skeleton  ever  unearthed 
does  not  exceed  twenty-five  feet  from  snout  to  tail.  Now, 
this  is  an  extremely  decent  size  for  a  reptile,  as  reptiles 
go ;  for  the  crocodile  and  alligator,  the  two  biggest  existing 
lizards,  seldom  attain  an  extreme  length  of  sixteen  feet. 
But  there  are  other  reptiles  now  living  that  easily  beat  the 
ichthyosaurus,  such,  for  example,  as  the  larger  pythons  or 
rock- snakes,  which  not  infrequently  reach  to  thirty  feet, 


BIO  ANBIALS  259 

and  measure  round  the  v*aiat  as  much  as  a  London 
alderman  of  the  noblest  proportion?.  Of  course,  other 
Jurassic  saurians  easily  beat  this  simple  record.  Our 
British  Megalosaurus  only  extended  tweiity-fivo  feet  in 
length,  and  carried  weight  not  exceeding  three  tons ;  but, 
his  rival  Ceteosaurus  stood  ten  feet  high,  and  measured 
fifty  feet  from  the  tip  of  his  snout  to  the  end  of  his  tail ; 
while  the  dimensions  of  Titanosauru3  may  be  briefly  de- 
scribed as  sixty  feet  by  thirty,  and  those  of  Atlantosaurus 
as  one  hundred  by  thirty-two.  Viewed  as  reptiles,  we 
have  certainly  nothing  at  all  to  come  up  to  these  ;  but  our 
cetaceans,  as  a  group,  show  an  assemblage  of  species 
which  could  very  favourably  compete  with  the  whole  lot  of 
Jurassic  saurians  at  any  cattle  show.  Indeed,  if  it  came 
to  tonnage,  I  believe  a  good  blubbery  right-whale  could 
easily  give  points  to  any  deinosaur  that  ever  moved  upon 
oolitic  continents. 

The  great  mammals  of  the  Pliocene  age,  agiin,  such  as 
the  deinotherium  and  the  mastodon,  were  a^so,  in  their 
way,  very  big  things  in  livestock;  but  they  scarcely  ex- 
ceeded the  modern  elephant,  and  by  no  means  came  near 
the  modern  whales.  A  few  colossal  ruminants  of  the  same 
period  could  have  held  their  own  well  against  our  existing 
giraffes,  elks,  and  buffaloes ;  but,  taking  the  group  as  a 
group,  I  don't  think  there  is  any  reason  to  believe  that  it 
beat  in  general  aspect  the  living  fauna  of  this  present  age. 

For  few  people  ever  really  remember  how  very  many 
big  animals  we  still  possess.  We  have  the  Indian  and  the 
African  elephant,  the  hippopotamus,  the  various  rhinoce- 
roses, the  walrus,  the  giraffe,  the  elk,  the  bison,  the  musk 
ox,  the  dromedary,  and  the  camel.  Big  marine  animals 
are  generally  in  all  ages  bigger  than  their  biggest  terres- 
trial rivals,  and  most  people  lump  all  our  big  existing 
cetaceans  under  the  common  and  ridiculous  title  of  whales, 


2G0  BIO  ANIMAI.S 

which  makes  this  vast  and  varied  assortment  of  gigantio 
species  seem  all  reducible  to  a  common  form.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  however,  there  are  several  dozen  colossal  marine 
animals  now  sporting  and  spouting  in  all  oceans,  as  distinct 
from  one  another  as  the  camel  is  from  the  ox,  or  the 
elephant  from  the  hippopotamus.  Our  New  Zealand 
Berardius  easily  beats  the  ichthyosaurus ;  our  sperm  whale 
is  more  than  a  match  for  any  Jurassic  European  deinosaur ; 
our  rorqual,  one  hundred  feet  long,  just  equals  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  gigantic  American  Atlantosaurus  himself. 
Besides  these  exceptional  monsters,  our  bottlcheads  reach 
to  forty  feet,  our  California  whales  to  forty-four,  our 
hump-backs  to  fifty,  andour  razor-backs  to  sixty  or  seventy. 
True  fish  generally  fall  far  short  of  these  enormous 
dimensions,  but  some  of  the  larger  sharks  attain  almost 
equal  size  with  the  biggest  cetaceans.  The  common  blue 
shark,  with  his  twenty-five  feet  of  solid  rapacity,  would 
have  proved  a  tough  antagonist,  I  venture  to  believe,  for 
the  best  bred  enaliosaurian  that  ever  munched  a  lias 
ammonite.  I  would  back  our  modern  carcharodon,  who 
grows  to  forty  feet,  against  any  plesiosaurus  that  ever 
swam  the  Jurassic  sea.  As  for  rhi\iodon,  a  gigantic  shark 
of  the  Indian  Ocean,  he  has  been  actually  measured  to  a 
length  of  fifty  feet,  and  is  stated  often  to  attain  seventy. 
I  v.'ill  stake  my  reputation  upon  it  that  he  would  have 
cleared  the  secondary  seas  of  their  great  saurians  in  less 
than  a  century.  When  we  come  to  add  to  these  enormous 
marine  and  terrestrial  creatures  such  other  examples  as  the 
great  snakes,  the  gigantic  cuttle-fish,  the  grampuses,  and 
manatees,  and  sea-lions,  and  sunfish,  I  am  quite  prepared 
fearlessly  to  challenge  any  other  age  that  ever  existed  to  enter 
the  lists  against  our  own  for  colossal  forms  of  animal  life. 

Again,  it  is  a  point  worth  noting  that  a  great  many  of 
the  very  big  animals  which  people  have  in  their  minds 


BIO  ANIMALS  261 

when  they  talk  vaguely  about  everything  having  been  so 
very  much  bigger  '  in  those  days '  liavo  become  extinct 
within  a  very  late  period,  and  are  often,  from  the  geological 
point  of  view,  quite  recent. 

For  exani))le,  there  is  our  friend  the  mammoth.  I 
suppose  no  aniniiil  is  more  frecjucntly  present  to  the  mind 
of  the  non-geoiogical  speaker,  when  he  talks  indefinitely 
about  the  groat  extinct  monsters,  than  the  familiar  iigure 
of  that  huge-tusked,  liairy  northern  elephant.  Yet  the 
mammoth,  chronologically  speaking,  is  but  a  thing  of 
yesterday.  He  was  hunted  here  in  England  by  men  whose 
descendants  are  probably  still  living — at  least  so  Professor 
Uoyd  Uawkins  solenmly  assures  us  ;  while  in  Siberia  his 
frozen  body,  llesh  and  all,  is  found  so  very  fresh  that  the 
wolves  devour  it,  without  raising  any  unnecessary  question 
as  to  its  fitness  for  lupine  food.  The  Glacial  Epoch  is  the 
yesterday  of  geological  time,  and  it  was  the  (jlacial  Epoch 
that  finally  killed  off  the  last  mammoth.  Then,  again, 
there  is  his  neighbour,  the  mastodon.  That  big  tertiary 
proboscidean  did  not  live  quite  long  enough,  it  is  true,  to 
be  hunted  by  the  cavemen  of  the  Pleistocene  age,  but  he 
survived  at  any  rate  as  long  as  the  Pliocene — our  day 
before  yesterday — and  he  often  fell  very  likely  before  the 
fire-split  flint  weapons  of  the  Abbe  Bourgeois'  Miocene 
men.  The  period  that  separates  him  from  our  own  day  is 
as  nothing  compared  with  the  vast  and  immeasurable 
interval  that  separates  him  from  the  huge  marine  saurians 
of  the  Jurassic  world.  To  compare  the  relative  lapses  of 
time  with  human  chronology,  the  mastodon  stands  to  our 
own  fauna  as  Beau  Brummel  stands  to  the  modern  masher, 
while  the  saurians  stand  to  it  as  the  Egyptian  and  Assyrian 
warriors  stand  to  Lord  Wolseley  and  the  followers  of  the 
Mahdi. 

Once  more,  take  the  gigantic  moa  of  New  Zealand,  that 


262  BIG    ANIiMALS 

enormous  bird  wlio  was  to  the  ostrich  as  the  giraffe  is  to 
the  antelope  ;  a  monstrous  emu,  as  far  surpassing  the 
ostriches  of  to-day  as  the  ostriches  surpass  all  the  other 
fowls  of  the  air.  Yet  the  raoa,  though  now  extinct,  is  in 
the  strictest  sense  quite  modern,  a  contemporary  very 
likely  of  Queen  Elizabeth  or  Queen  Anne,  exterminated  by 
the  Maoris  only  a  very  little  time  before  the  first  white 
settlements  in  the  great  southern  archipelago.  It  is  even 
doubtful  whether  the  moa  did  not  live  down  to  the  days  of 
the  earliest  colonists,  for  remains  of  Maori  encampments 
are  still  discovered,  with  the  ashes  of  the  fireplace  even  now 
unscattered,  and  the  close-gnawed  bones  of  the  gigantic 
bird  lying  in  the  very  spot  where  the  natives  left  them  after 
their  destructive  feasts.  So,  too,  with  the  big  sharks. 
Our  modern  carcharodon,  who  runs  (as  I  have  before  noted) 
to  forty  feet  in  length,  is  a  very  respectnble  monster  indeed, 
as  times  go  ;  and  his  huge  snapping  teeth,  which  measure 
nearly  two  inches  long  by  one  and  a  half  broad,  would 
disdain  to  make  two  bites  of  the  able-bodied  British  sea- 
man. But  the  naturalists  of  the  '  Challenger  '  expedition 
dredged  up  in  numbers  from  the  ooze  of  the  Pacific  similar 
teeth,  five  inches  long  by  four  wide,  so  that  the  sharks  to 
which  they  originally  belonged  must,  by  parity  of  reasoi  hig, 
have  measured  nearly  a  hundred  feet  in  length.  This,  no 
doubt,  beats  our  biggest  existing  shark,  the  rhinodon,  by 
some  thirty  feet.  Still,  the  ooze  of  the  Pacific  is  a  quite 
recent  or  almost  modern  deposit,  which  is  even  now  being 
accumulated  on  the  sea  bottom,  and  there  would  be  really 
nothing  astonishing  in  the  discovery  that  some  representa- 
tives of  these  colossal  carcharodons  are  to  this  day  swim- 
ming about  at  their  lordly  leisure  among  the  coral  reefs  of 
the  South  Sea  Islands.  That  very  cautious  naturalist,  Dr. 
Giinther,  of  the  British  Museum,  contents  himself  indeed 
by  merely  saying :  '  As  we  have  no  record  of  living  indi- 


BIG  ANIMALS  263 

viduals  of  that  balk  liaving  been  observed,  the  gigantic 
species  to  which  these  teeth  belonged  must  probably  have 
become  extinct  within  a  comparatively  recent  period.' 

If  these  things  are  so,  the  question  naturally  suggests 
itself:  Why  should  certain  types  of  animals  have  attained 
their  greatest  si/e  at  certain  dilVerent  epochs,  and  been  re- 
placed at  others  by  equally  big  animals  of  wholly  unlike 
sorts  ?  The  answer,  I  believe,  is  simply  this :  Because 
there  is  not  room  and  food  in  the  world  at  any  one  time 
for  more  than  a  certahi  relatively  small  number  of  gigantic 
species.  Each  great  group  of  animals  has  had  successively 
its  rise,  its  zenith,  its  decadence,  and  its  dotage;  each  at 
the  period  of  its  higliest  development  has  produced  a  con- 
siderable number  of  colossal  forms  ;  each  has  been  sup- 
planted in  due  time  by  higher  groups  of  totally  dill'erent 
structure,  which  have  killed  oil'  their  predecessors,  not 
indeed  by  actual  stress  of  battle,  but  by  irresistible  compe- 
tion  for  food  and  prey.  The  great  saurians  were  tlma 
succeeded  by  the  great  mammals,  just  as  the  great  mammals 
are  themselves  ni  turn  being  ousted,  from  the  land  at  least, 
by  the  human  species. 

Let  us  look  brieily  at  the  succession  of  big  animals  in 
the  world,  so  far  as  wo  can  follow  it  from  the  mutilated  and 
fragmentary  record  of  the  geological  remains. 

The  very  earliest  existing  fossils  would  load  us  to  be- 
lieve what  is  otherwise  quite  probable,  that  hfo  on  our 
planet  began  with  very  snuiU  forms — that  it  passed  at  first 
through  a  baby  stage.  The  animals  of  the  Cambrian 
period  are  almost  all  small  mollusks,  star-fishes,  sponges, 
and  other  simple,  primitive  types  of  life.  There  were  as 
yet  no  vertebrates  of  any  sort,  not  even  fishes,  far  less 
amphibians,  reptiles,  birds,  or  mammals.  The  veritable 
giants  of  the  Cambrian  world  were  the  crustaceans,  and 
especially  the  trilobites,  which,  nevertheless,  hardly  ex- 


2G4  BIG  ANIMALS 

ceeded  in  size  a  good  big  modern  lobster.  The  biggest 
trilobite  is  some  two  feet  long  ;  and  though  we  cannot  by 
any  means  say  that  tliis  was  really  the  largest  form  of  animal 
life  then  existing,  owing  to  the  extremely  broken  nature  of 
the  geological  record,  we  have  at  least  no  evidence  that 
anything  bigger  as  y(^t  moved  upon  the  face  of  the  waters. 
The  trilol)ites,  which  were  a  sort  of  triple-tailed  crabs  (to 
speak  very  popularly),  began  in  the  Cambrian  Epoch, 
attained  their  culminating  point  in  the  Silurian,  waned  in 
the  Devonian,  and  died  out  utterly  in  the  Carboniferous 
seas. 

It  is  in  the  second  great  epoch,  the  Silurian,  that  the 
cuttle-fish  tribe,  still  fairly  represented  by  the  nautilus, 
the  argonaut,  the  scjuid,  and  the  octopus,  first  began  to 
make  their  appearance  upon  this  or  any  other  stage,  "i'lio 
cuttle-fishes  are  among  the  most  developed  of  invertebrato 
animals ;  they  are  rapid  swimmers ;  they  have  large  and 
powerful  eyes  ;  and  they  can  easily  enfold  their  prey  {testa 
Victor  Hugo)  in  their  long  and  slimy  sucker-clad  arms. 
With  these  luitural  advantages  to  back  them  up,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  the  cuttle  family  rapidly  made  their  mark 
in  the  world.  They  were  by  far  the  most  advanced  thinkers 
and  actors  of  their  own  age,  and  thoy  rose  almost  at  once 
to  be  the  dominant  creatures  of  the  primeval  ocean  hi 
which  they  swam.  There  were  as  yet  no  saurians  or 
whales  to  dispute  the  dominion  with  these  rapacious 
cephalopods,  and  so  the  cuttle  family  had  things  for  the 
time  all  their  own  way.  Before  the  end  of  the  Silurian 
Epoch,  according  to  that  accurate  census-taker,  M.  Barrande, 
they  had  blossomed  forth  into  no  less  than  1,022  distinct 
species.  For  a  single  family  to  develop  so  enormous  a 
variety  of  separate  forms,  all  presumably  derived  from  a 
single  common  ancestor,  argues,  of  course,  an  immense 
success  in  life ;  and  it  also  argues  a  vast  lapse  of  time 


BIG  ANIMALS  265 

durinj?  which  the  different  species  were  gradually  demar- 
cated from  one  another. 

Some  of  the  ammonites,  which  hclonged  to  this  cuttle- 
fish group,  soon  attained  a  very  considerable  size  ;  but  a 
shell  known  as  the  orthoceras  (I  wish  my  subject  didn't 
compel  me  to  use  such  very  long  words,  but  I  am  not  per- 
sonally answerable,  thank  heaven,  for  the  vagaries  of 
modern  f:cie-  tilic  nomenclature)  grew  to  a  bigger  size  than 
that  of  any  other  fossil  mollusk,  sometimes  measuring  as 
much  as  six  feet  in  total  length.  At  what  date  the  gigantic 
cuttles  of  the  present  day  first  began  to  make  their  appear- 
ance it  would  be  hard  to  say,  for  their  shell-less  bodies  are 
80  soft  that  they  could  leave  hardly  anything  behind  in  a 
fossil  state  ;  but  the  largest  known  cuttle,  measured  by  Mr. 
Gabriel,  of  Newfoundland,  was  eighty  feet  in  length, 
imduding  the  long  arms. 

These  cuttles  are  the  only  invertebrates  at  all  in  the 
running  so  far  as  colossal  8iz3  is  concerned,  and  it  will  bo 
observed  that  here  the  largest  modern  specimen  immeasur- 
ably beats  the  largest  fossil  form  of  the  same  type.  I  do 
not  say  that  there  were  not  fossil  forms  quite  as  big  as  the 
gigantic  calamaries  of  our  own  time — on  the  contrary,  I 
believe  there  were ;  but  if  we  go  by  the  record  alone  wo 
must  confess  that,  in  the  matter  of  invertebrates  at  least, 
the  balance  of  size  is  all  in  favour  of  our  own  period. 

The  vertebrates  first  make  their  appearance,  in  the 
shape  of  fishes,  towards  the  close  of  the  Silurian  period, 
the  second  of  the  great  geological  epochs.  The  earliest 
fish  appear  to  have  been  small,  elongated,  eel-liko  creatures, 
closely  resembling  the  lampreys  in  structure ;  but  they 
rapidly  developed  in  size  and  variety,  and  soon  became  the 
ruling  race  in  the  waters  of  the  ocean,  where  they  main- 
tained their  supremacy  till  the  rise  of  the  great  secondary 
saurians.     Even  then,  in  spite  of  the  severe  competition 


266  BIO  ANIMALS 

thus  introduced,  and  still  later,  in  spite  of  the  struggle  for 
life  against  the  huge  modern  cetaceans  (the  true  monarchs 
of  the  recent  seas),  the  sharks  continued  to  hold  their  own 
as  producers  of  gigantic  forms  ;  and  at  the  present  day 
their  largest  types  probably  rank  second  only  to  the  whales 
in  the  whole  range  of  animated  nature.  There  seems  no 
reason  to  doubt  that  modern  fish,  as  a  whole,  quite  equal 
in  size  the  piscine  fauna  of  any  previous  geological  age. 

It  is  somewhat  different  with  the  next  great  vertebrate 
group,  the  amphibians,  represented  in  our  own  world  only 
by  the  frogs,  the  toads,  the  newts,  and  the  axolotls.  Here 
we  must  certainly  with  shame  confess  that  the  amphibians 
of  old  greatly  surpassed  their  degenerate  descendants  in  our 
modern  waters.  The  Japanese  salamander,  by  far  the 
biggest  among  our  existing  newts,  never  exceeds  a  yard  in 
length  from  snout  to  tail ;  whereas  some  of  the  labyrin- 
tliodonts  (forgive  me  once  more)  of  the  Carboniferous  Epoch 
must  have  reached  at  least  seven  or  eight  feet  from  stem  to 
stern.  But  the  reason  of  this  falling  off  is  not  far  to  seek. 
When  the  adventurous  newts  and  frogs  of  that  remote 
period  first  dropped  their  gills  and  hopped  about  inquir- 
ingly on  the  dry  land,  under  the  shadow  of  the  ancient 
tree-ferns  and  club-mosses,  they  were  the  only  terrestrial 
vertebrates  then  existing,  and  they  had  the  field  (or,  rather, 
the  forest)  all  to  themselves.  For  a  while,  therefore,  like 
all  dominant  races  for  the  time  being,  they  blossomed  forth 
at  their  ease  into  relatively  gigantic  forms.  Frogs  as  big 
as  donkeys,  and  efts  as  long  as  crocodiles,  luxuriated  to 
their  hearts'  content  in  the  marshy  lowlands,  and  lorded  it 
freely  over  the  small  creatures  which  they  found  in  undis- 
turbed possession  of  the  Carboniferous  isles.  But  as  ages 
passed  away,  and  new  improvements  were  slowly  invented 
and  patented  by  survival  of  the  fittest  in  the  offices  of 
nature,  their  own  more  advanced  and  developed  descend- 


BIO  ANIMALS  267 

ants,  the  reptiles  and  mammals,  got  the  upper  hand  with 
them,  and  soon  lived  them  down  in  tho  strug^^le  for  life,  so 
that  this  essentially  intermediate  form  is  now  almost  en- 
tirely restricted  to  its  one  adapted  seat,  the  pools  and 
ditches  that  dry  up  in  summer. 

The  reptiles,  again,  are  a  class  in  which  the  biggest 
modern  forms  are  simply  nowliere  beside  the  gigantic 
extinct  species.  First  appearing  on  the  earth  at  the  very 
close  of  the  vast  primary  periods — in  the  Permian  age — 
they  attained  in  secondary  times  the  most  colossal  propor- 
tions, and  have  certainly  never  since  been  exceeded  in  size 
by  any  later  forms  of  life  in  whatever  direction.  But  one 
must  remember  that  during  the  heyday  of  the  great 
saurians,  there  were  as  yet  no  birds  and  no  mammals. 
The  place  now  filled  in  the  ocean  by  the  whales  and  gram- 
puses, as  well  as  the  place  now  filled  in  the  great  conti- 
nents by  the  elephants,  the  rhinoceroses,  the  hippopotami, 
and  the  other  big  quadrupeds,  was  then  filled  exclusively 
by  huge  reptiles,  of  the  sort  rendered  familiar  to  us  all  by 
the  restored  effigies  on  the  little  island  in  the  Crystal  Palace 
grounds.  Every  dog  has  his  day,  and  the  reptiles  had 
tlieir  day  in  the  secondary  period.  The  forms  into  which 
they  developed  were  certainly  every  whit  as  large  as  any 
ever  seen  on  the  surface  of  this  planet,  but  not,  as  I  have 
already  shown,  appreciably  larger  than  those  of  the  biggest 
cetaceans  known  to  science  in  our  own  time. 

During  the  very  period,  however,  when  enaliosaurians 
and  pterodactyls  were  playing  such  pranks  before  high 
heaven  as  might  have  made  contemporary  angels  weep,  if 
they  took  any  notice  of  saurian  morality,  a  small  race  of 
unobserved  little  prowlers  was  growing  up  in  the  dense 
shades  of  the  neighbouring  forests  which  was  destined  at 
last  to  oust  the  huge  reptiles  from  their  empire  over  earth, 
and  to  become  in  the  fulness  of  time  the  exclusively 
18 


268  BIQ   ANIMALS 

dominant  type  of  the  whole  planet.  In  the  trias  we  get 
the  first  remains  of  mammalian  life  in  the  shape  of  tiny 
rat-like  animals,  marsupial  in  type,  and  closely  related  to 
the  handed  ant-eaters  of  New  South  Wales  at  the  present 
day.  Throughout  the  long  lapse  of  the  secondary  agee, 
across  the  lias,  the  oolite,  the  wealden,  and  the  chalk,  we 
find  the  mammalian  race  slowly  developing  into  opossums 
and  kangaroos,  such  as  still  inhabit  the  isolated  and  anti- 
quated continent  of  Australia.  Gathering  strength  all  tho 
time  for  the  coming  contest,  increasing  constantly  in  size 
of  brain  and  keenness  of  intelligence,  tho  true  mammals 
were  able  at  last,  towards  the  close  of  the  secondary  ages, 
to  enter  the  lists  boldly  against  the  gigantic  saurians. 
With  the  dawn  of  the  tertiary  period,  the  reign  of  the  rep- 
tiles begins  to  wane,  and  the  reign  of  the  mammals  to  set 
in  at  last  in  real  earnest.  In  place  of  the  ichthyosaurs  we 
get  the  huge  cetaceans ;  in  place  of  the  deinosaurs  we  get 
the  manmioth  and  the  mastodon ;  in  place  of  the  domi- 
nant reptile  groups  we  get  the  first  precursors  of  man 
himself. 

The  history  of  the  great  birds  has  been  somewhat  more 
singular.  Unlike  the  other  main  vertebrate  classes,  the 
birds  (as  if  on  purpose  to  contradict  the  proverb)  seem 
never  yet  to  have  had  their  day.  Unfortunately  for  them, 
or  at  least  for  their  chance  of  producing  colossal  species, 
their  evolution  went  on  side  by  side,  apparently,  with  that 
of  the  still  more  intelligent  and  more  powerful  mammals  ; 
BO  that,  wherever  the  mammalian  type  had  once  firmly 
established  itself,  the  birds  were  compelled  to  limit  their 
aspirations  to  a  very  modest  and  humble  standard.  Ter- 
restrial mammals,  however,  cannot  cross  the  sea  ;  so  in 
isolated  regions,  such  as  New  Zealand  and  Madagascar,  the 
birds  had  things  all  their  own  way.  In  New  Zealand,  there 
are  no  indigenous  quadrupeds  at  all ;  and  there  the  huge 


BIG  ANIMALS  269 

moa  attained  to  dimensions  almost  equalling  those  of  the 
giraffe.  In  Madagascar,  the  mammalian  life  was  small 
and  of  low  grade,  so  the  gigantic  rcpyornis  became  the 
very  biggest  of  all  known  birds.  At  the  same  time,  these 
big  species  acquired  their  immense  size  at  the  cost  of  the 
distinctive  birdliko  habit  of  flight.  A  flying  moa  is  almost 
an  impossible  conception ;  even  the  ostriches  compete 
practically  with  the  zebras  and  antelopes  rather  than  with 
the  eagles,  the  condors,  or  the  albatrosses.  In  like  manner, 
when  a  pigeon  found  its  way  to  Mauritius,  it  developed  into 
the  practically  wingless  dodo  ;  while  in  the  northern  pen- 
guins, on  their  icy  perches,  the  fore  limbs  have  been  gradu- 
ally modified  into  swimming  organs,  exactly  analogous  to 
the  flippers  of  the  seal. 

Are  the  great  aniniiUs  now  passing  away  and  leaving  no 
representatives  of  their  greatness  to  future  ages  ?  On  land 
at  least  that  is  very  probable.  INIan,  diminutive  man,  who, 
if  he  walked  on  all  fours,  would  be  no  bigger  than  a  silly 
sheep,  and  who  only  partially  disguises  his  native  small- 
ness  by  his  acquired  habit  of  walking  erect  on  what  ought 
to  be  his  hind  legs — man  has  upset  the  whole  balanced 
economy  of  nature,  and  is  everywhere  expelling  and  exter- 
minating before  him  the  great  herbivores,  his  predecessors. 
He  needs  for  his  corn  and  his  bananas  the  fruitful  plains 
"which  were  once  laid  down  in  prairie  or  scrubwood.  Hence 
it  seems  not  unlikely  that  the  elephant,  the  hippopotamus, 
the  rhinoceros,  and  the  buffalo  must  go.  But  we  are  still 
a  long  way  off  from  that  final  consummation,  even  on  dry 
land ;  while  as  for  the  water,  it  appears  highly  probable 
that  there  are  as  good  fish  still  in  the  sea  as  ever  came  out 
of  it.  Whether  man  himself,  now  become  the  sole  domi- 
nant animal  of  our  poor  old  planet,  will  ever  develop  into 
Titanic  proportions,  seems  far  more  problematical.  The 
race  is  now  no  longer  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to  the 


270  I3IG  ANIMALS 

Btrong.  Brain  counts  for  more  than  muscle,  and  mind  haa 
gained  the  iinal  victory  over  mere  matter.  Gohath  of  Gath 
has  shrunk  into  insignificance  before  the  GatHng  gun  ;  as 
in  the  fairy  tales  of  old,  it  is  cunning  little  Jack  with  his 
clever  devices  who  wins  the  day  against  the  heavy,  clumsy, 
muddle-headed  giants.  Nowadays  it  is  our  *  Minotaurs  ' 
and  *  Warriors  '  that  are  the  real  leviathans  and  behemoths 
of  the  great  deep ;  our  Krupps  and  Armstrongs  are  the 
fire-breathing  krakens  of  the  latter-day  seas.  Instead  of 
developing  individually  into  huge  proportions,  the  human 
race  tends  rather  to  aggregate  into  vast  empires,  which 
compete  with  one  another  by  means  of  huge  armaments, 
and  invent  mitrailleuses  and  torpedos  of  incredible  ferocity 
for  their  mutual  destruction.  The  dragons  of  the  prime 
that  tare  each  other  in  their  slime  have  yielded  place  to 
eighty-ton  guns  and  armour-plated  turret-ships.  Those  are 
the  genuine  lineal  representatives  on  our  modern  seas  of 
the  secondary  saurians.  Let  us  hope  that  some  coming 
geologist  of  the  dim  future,  finding  the  fossil  remains  of 
the  sunken  *  Captain,'  or  the  plated  scales  of  the  '  Comte 
de  Grasse,'  firmly  embedded  in  the  upheaved  ooze  of  the 
existing  Atlantic,  may  shake  his  head  in  solemn  deprecation 
at  the  horrid  sight,  and  thank  heaven  that  such  hideous 
carnivorous  creatures  no  longer  exist  in  his  own  day. 


FOSSIL  FOOD  271 


FOSSIL  FOOD 

There  is  something  at  first  sight  rather  ridiculous  in  the 
idea  of  eating  a  fossil.  To  be  sure,  when  the  frozen  mam- 
moths of  Siberia  were  first  discovered,  though  they  had 
been  dead  for  at  least  80,000  years  (according  to  Dr.  Croll's 
minimum  reckoning  for  the  end  of  the  great  ice  age),  and 
might  therefore  naturally  have  begun  to  get  a  little  musty, 
they  had  nevertheless  been  kept  so  fresh,  like  a  sort  of  pre- 
historic Australian  mutton,  in  their  vast  natural  refrigera- 
tors, that  the  wolves  and  bears  greedily  devoured  the 
precious  relics  for  which  the  naturalists  of  Europe  would 
have  been  ready  gladly  to  pay  the  highest  market  price  of 
best  beefsteak.  Those  carnivorous  vandals  gnawed  off 
the  skin  and  flesh  with  the  utmost  appreciation,  and  left 
nothing  but  the  tusks  and  bones  to  adorn  the  galleries  of 
the  new  Natural  History  Museum  at  South  Kensington.  But 
then  wolves  and  bears,  especially  in  Siberia,  are  not  exactly 
fastidious  about  the  nature  of  their  meat  diet.  Further- 
more, some  of  the  bones  of  extinct  animals  found  beneath  the 
stalagmitic  floor  of  caves,  in  England  and  elsewhere,  pre- 
sumably of  about  the  same  age  as  the  Siberian  mammoths, 
still  contain  enough  animal  matter  to  produce  a  good  strong 
stock  for  antediluvian  broth,  which  has  been  scientifically 
described  by  a  high  authority  aa  pre- Adamite  jelly.  The 
congress  of  naturalists  at  Tiibiugen  a  few  years  since  had 
a  smoking  tureen  of  this  cave-bone  soup  placed  upon  the 


272  FOSSIL  FOOD 

dinner-table  at  their  hotel  one  evenin,f»,  and  pronounced  it 
with  geological  enthusiasm  *  scarcely  inferior  to  prime  ox- 
tail.' But  men  of  science,  too,  are  accustomed  to  trying 
unsavoury  experiments,  which  would  go  sadly  against  the 
grain  with  less  philosophic  and  more  squeamish  palates. 
They  think  nothing  of  tasting  a  caterpillar  that  birds  will 
not  touch,  in  order  to  discover  whether  it  owes  its  im- 
munity from  attack  to  some  nauseous,  bitter,  or  pungent 
flavouring  ;  and  they  even  advise  you  calmly  to  discriminate 
between  two  closely  similar  species  of  snails  by  trying  which 
of  them  when  chewed  has  a  delicate  soupqon  of  oniony 
aroma.  So  that  naturalists  in  this  matter,  as  the  children 
say,  don't  count :  their  universal  thirst  for  knowledge  will 
prompt  them  to  drink  anything,  down  even  to  consomvU  of 
quaternary  cave-bear. 

There  is  one  form  of  fossil  food,  however,  which  appears 
constantly  upon  all  our  tables  at  breakfast,  lunch,  and 
dinner,  every  day,  and  which  is  so  perfectly  familiar  to 
every  one  of  us  that  we  almost  forget  entirely  its  immensely 
remote  geological  origin.  The  salt  in  our  salt-cellars  is  a 
fossil  product,  laid  down  ages  ago  in  some  primaBval  Dead 
Sea  or  Caspian,  and  derived  in  all  probability  (through  the 
medium  of  the  grocer)  from  the  triassic  rocks  of  Cheshire 
or  Worcestershire.  Since  that  thick  bed  of  rock-salt  was 
first  precipitated  upon  the  dry  floor  of  some  old  evaporated 
inland  sea,  the  greater  part  of  the  geological  history  known 
to  the  world  at  large  has  slowly  unrolled  itself  through  in- 
calculable ages.  The  dragons  of  the  prime  have  begun 
and  finished  their  long  (and  Lord  Tennyson  says  slimy) 
race.  The  fisli-like  saurians  and  flying  pterodactyls  of  the 
secondary  period  have  come  into  existence  and  gone  out  of 
it  gracefully  again.  The  whole  family  of  birds  has  been 
developed  and  diversified  into  its  modern  variety  of  eagles 
and  titmice.     The  beasts  of  the  field  have  passed  through 


FOSSIL  FOOD  273 

sundry  stages  of  mammoth  and  mastodon,  of  sabre-toothed 
lion  and  huge  rliinoceros.  Man  himself  has  progressed 
gradually  from  the  humble  condition  of  a  *  hairy  arboreal 
(juadruped  ' — these  bad  words  are  Mr.  Darwin's  own — to 
the  glorious  elevation  of  an  erect,  two-handed  creature,  with 
a  county  suffrage  question  and  an  intelligent  interest  in  the 
latest  proceedings  of  the  central  divorce  court.  And  after 
all  those  manifold  changes,  compared  to  which  the  entire 
period  of  English  history,  from  the  landing  of  Julius  Cfrsar 
to  the  appearance  of  tliis  present  volume  (to  take  two  im- 
portant landmarks),  is  as  one  hour  to  a  human  lifetime, 
we  quietly  dig  up  the  salt  to-day  from  that  dry  lake  bottom 
and  proceed  to  eat  it  with  the  eggs  laid  by  the  hens  this 
morning  for  this  morning's  breakfast,  just  as  though  the 
one  food-stuff  were  not  a  whit  more  ancient  or  more  dignified 
in  nature  than  the  other.  Why,  mammoth  steak  is  really 
quite  modern  and  common-place  by  the  side  of  the  salt  in 
the  salt-cellar  that  we  treat  so  cavalierly  every  day  of  our 
ephemeral  existence. 

The  way  salt  got  originally  deposited  in  these  great 
rock  beds  is  very  well  illustrated  for  us  by  the  way  it  is  still 
being  deposited  in  the  evaporating  waters  of  many  inland 
seas.  Every  schoolboy  knows  of  course  (though  some 
persons  who  are  no  longer  schoolboys  may  just  possibly 
have  forgotten)  that  the  Caspian  is  in  reality  only  a  little 
bit  of  tiie  Mediterranean,  which  has  been  cut  off  from  the 
main  sea  by  the  gradual  elevation  of  the  country  between 
them.  For  many  ages  the  intermediate  soil  has  been  quite 
literally  rising  in  the  world  ;  but  to  this  day  a  continuous 
chain  of  salt  lakes  and  marshes  runs  between  the  Caspian 
and  the  Black  Sea,  and  does  its  best  to  keep  alive  the 
memory  of  the  time  when  they  were  both  united  in  a 
single  basin.  All  along  this  intervening  tract,  once  sea 
but  now  dry  land,  banks  of  shells  belonging  to  kinds  still 


274  FOSSIL  FOOD 

living  in  the  Caspian  and  the  Black  Sea  alike  testify  to  the 
old  line  of  water  communication.  One  fine  morning  (date 
unknown)  the  intermediate  belt  began  to  rise  up  between 
them ;  the  water  was  all  pushed  off  into  the  Caspian, 
but  the  shells  remained  to  tell  the  tale  even  unto  this  day. 
Now,  when  a  bit  of  the  sea  gets  cut  off  in  this  way 
from  the  main  ocean,  evaporation  of  its  waters  generally 
takes  place  rather  faster  than  the  return  supply  of  rain  by 
rivers  and  lesser  tributaries.  In  other  words,  the  inland 
sea  or  salt  lake  begins  slowly  to  dry  up.  This  is  now  just 
happening  in  the  Caspian,  which  is  in  fact  a  big  pool  in 
course  of  being  slowly  evaporated.  By-and-by  a  point  is 
reached  when  the  water  can  no  longer  hold  in  solution  the 
amount  of  salts  of  various  sorts  that  it  originally  contained. 
In  the  technical  language  of  chemists  and  physicists  it 
begins  to  get  supersaturated.  Then  the  salts  are  thrown 
down  as  a  sediment  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  or  lake,  exactly 
as  crust  formed  on  the  bottom  of  a  kettle.  Gypsum  is 
the  first  material  to  be  so  thrown  down,  because  it  is  less 
soluble  than  common  salt,  and  therefore  sooner  got  rid  of. 
It  forms  a  thick  bottom  layer  in  the  bed  of  all  evaporating 
inland  seas  ;  and  as  plaster  of  Paris  it  not  only  gives  rise 
finally  to  artistic  monstrosities  hawked  about  the  streets 
for  the  degradation  of  national  taste,  but  also  plays  an  im- 
portant part  in  the  manufacture  of  bonbons,  the  destruction 
of  the  human  digestion,  and  the  ultimate  ruin  of  the 
dominant  white  European  race.  Only  about  a  third  of  the 
water  in  a  salt  lake  need  be  evaporated  before  the  gypsum 
begins  to  be  deposited  in  a  solid  layer  over  its  whole  bed  ; 
it  is  not  till  93  per  cent,  of  the  water  has  gone,  and  only 
7  per  cent,  is  left,  that  common  salt  begins  to  be  thrown 
down.  When  that  point  of  intensity  is  reached,  the  salt, 
too,  falls  as  a  sediment  to  the  bottom,  and  there  overlies 
the  gypsum  deposit.    Hence  all  the  world  over,  wherever  we 


FOSSIL  FOOD  275 

come  upon  a  bed  of  rock  salt,  it  almost  invariably  lies  upon 
a  floor  of  solid  gypsum. 

The  Caspian,  being  still  a  very  respectable  modem  sea, 
constantly  supplied  with  fresh  water  from  the  surrounding 
rivers,  has  not  yet  begun  by  any  means  to  deposit  salt  on 
its  bottom  from  its  whole  mass  ;  but  the  shallow  j)ools  and 
long  bays  around  its  edge  have  crusts  of  beautiful  rose- 
coloured  salt-crystals  forming  upon  their  sides ;  and  as 
these  lesser  basins  gradually  dry  up,  the  sand,  blown  before 
the  wind,  slowly  drifts  over  them,  so  as  to  form  miniature 
rock-salt  beds  on  a  very  small  scale.  Nevertheless,  the 
young  and  vigorous  Caspian  only  represents  the  first  stage 
in  the  process  of  evaporation  of  an  inland  sea.  It  is  still 
fresh  enough  to  form  the  abode  of  fish  and  moliusks ;  and 
the  irrepressible  young  lady  of  the  present  generation  is 
perhaps  even  aware  that  it  contains  numbers  of  seals,  being 
in  fact  the  seat  of  one  of  the  most  important  and  valuable 
seal-fisheries  in  the  whole  world.  It  may  be  regarded  as  a 
typical  example  of  a  yet  youthful  and  lively  inland  sea. 

The  Dead  Sea,  on  the  other  hand,  is  an  old  and  de- 
crepit salt  lake  in  a  very  advanced  state  of  evaporation.  It 
lies  several  feet  below  the  level  of  the  Mediterranean,  just 
as  the  Caspianlies  several  feet  below  the  level  of  the  Black  Sea ; 
and  as  in  both  cases  the  surface  must  once  have  been  con- 
tinuous, it  is  clear  that  the  water  of  either  sheet  must  have 
dried  up  to  a  very  considerable  extent.  But,  while  the 
Caspian  has  shrunk  only  to  85  feet  below  the  Black  Sea, 
the  Dead  Sea  has  shrunk  to  the  enormous  depth  of  1,292 
feet  below  the  Mediterranean.  Every  now  and  then,  some 
enterprising  De  Lesseps  or  other  proposes  to  dig  a  canal 
from  the  Mediterranean  to  the  Dead  Sea,  and  so  re-esta- 
blish the  old  high  level.  The  effect  of  this  very  revolutionary 
proceeding  woul(J  be  to  flood  the  entire  Jordan  Valley^ 
connect  the  Sea  of  Galilee  with  the  Dead  Sea,  and  play 


276  FOSSIL  FOOD 

the  dickens  generally  with  Scripture  geography,  to  the  in- 
finite delight  of  Sunday  school  classes.  Now,  when  the 
Dead  Sea  first  began  its  independent  career  as  a  separate 
sheet  of  water  on  its  own  account,  it  no  doubt  occupied  the 
whole  bed  of  this  imaginary  engineers'  lake — spreading,  if 
not  from  Dan  to  Bcersheba,  at  any  rate  from  Dan  to  Edom, 
or,  in  other  words,  along  the  whole  Jordan  Valley  from  the 
Sea  of  Galilee  and  even  the  Waters  of  Merom  to  the 
southern  desert.  (I  will  not  insult  the  reader's  intelligence 
and  orthodoxy  by  suggesting  that  perhaps  he  may  not  be 
precisely  certain  as  to  the  exact  position  of  the  Waters  of 
Merom ;  but  I  will  merely  recommend  him  just  to  refresh 
his  memory  by  turning  to  his  atlas,  as  this  is  an  opportu- 
nity which  may  not  again  occur.)  The  modern  Dead  Sea  is 
the  last  shrunken  relic  of  such  a  corsiderable  ancient  lake. 
Its  waters  are  now  so  very  concentrated  and  so  very  nasty 
that  no  fish  or  other  self-respecting  animal  can  consent 
to  live  in  them ;  and  so  buoyant  that  a  man  can't  drown 
himself,  even  if  he  tries,  because  the  sea  is  saturated  with 
salts  of  various  sorts  till  it  has  become  a  kind  of  soup  or  por- 
ridge, in  which  a  swimmer  floats,  will  he  nill  he.  Persons 
in  the  neighbourhood  who  wish  to  commit  suicide  are  there- 
fore obliged  to  go  elsewhere  :  much  as  in  Tasmania,  the 
healthiest  climate  in  the  world,  people  who  want  to  die  are 
obliged  to  run  across  for  a  week  to  Sydney  or  Melbourne. 

The  waters  of  the  Dead  Sea  are  thus  in  the  condition 
of  having  already  deposited  almost  all  their  gypsum,  as 
well  as  the  greater  part  of  the  salt  they  originally  con- 
tained. They  are,  in  fact,  much  like  sea  water  which  has 
been  boiled  down  till  it  has  reached  the  state  of  a  thick 
salty  liquid ;  and  though  most  of  the  salt  is  now  already 
deposited  in  a  deep  layer  on  the  bottom,  enough  still 
remains  in  solution  to  make  the  Dead  Sea  infinitely  Salter 
than  the  general  ocean.      At  the  same  time,  there  are  a 


FOSSIL  FOOD  277 

good  many  other  things  in  solution  in  sea  water  besides, 
gypsum  and  common  salt ;  such  as  chloride  of  magnesia 
sulphate  of  potassium,  and  other  interesting  substances 
with  pretty  chemical  names,  well  calculated  to  endear  them 
at  first  sight  to  the  sentimental  affections  of  the  general 
public.  These  other  by-contents  of  the  water  arc  often 
still  longer  in  getting  deposited  than  common  salt ;  and, 
owing  to  their  intermixture  in  a  very  concentrated  form 
with  the  mother  liquid  of  the  Dead  Sea,  the  water  of  that 
evaporating  lake  is  not  only  salt  but  also  slimy  and  fetid  to 
the  last  degree,  its  taste  being  accurately  described  as  half 
brine,  half  rancid  oil.  Indeed,  the  salt  has  been  so  far 
precipitated  already  that  there  is  now  five  times  as  much 
chloride  of  magnesium  left  in  the  water  as  there  is  common 
salt.  By  the  way,  it  is  a  lucky  thing  for  us  that  these 
various  soluble  minerals  are  of  such  constitution  as  to  be 
thrown  down  separately  at  different  stages  of  concentration 
in  the  evaporating  liquid  ;  for,  if  it  were  otherwise,  they 
would  all  get  deposited  together,  and  we  should  find  on  all  old 
salt  lake  beds  only  a  mixed  layer  of  gypsum,  salt,  and  other 
chlorides  and  sulphates,  absolutely  useless  for  any  practical 
human  purpose.  In  that  case,  we  should  be  entirely  de- 
pendent upon  marine  salt  pans  and  artificial  processes  for 
our  entire  salt  supply.  As  it  is,  we  find  the  materials  de- 
posited one  above  another  in  regular  layers  ;  first,  the 
gypsum  at  the  bottom  ;  then  the  rock-salt ;  and  last  of  all, 
on  top,  the  more  soluble  mineral  constituents. 

The  Great  Salt  Lake  of  Utah,  sacred  to  the  memory 
of  Brigham  Young,  gives  us  an  example  of  a  modern 
saline  sheet  of  very  different  origin,  since  it  is  in  fact  not 
a  branch  of  the  sea  at  all,  but  a  mere  shrunken  remnant 
of  a  very  large  fresh-water  lake  system,  like  that  of  the 
stiU-existing  St.  Lawrence  chain.  Once  upon  a  time, 
American  geologists  say,  a  huge  sheet  of  water,  for  which 


278  FOSSIL  FOOD 

they  have  even  invented  a  definite  name,  Lake  Bonneville, 
occupied  a  far  larger  valley  among  the  outliers  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  measuring  300  miles  in  one  direction  by 
180  miles  in  the  other.  Beside  this  primitive  Superior  lay 
a  second  great  sheet — an  early  Huron — (Lake  Lahontan, 
the  geologists  call  it)  almost  as  big,  and  equally  of  fresh 
water.  By-and-by — the  precise  dates  are  necessarily  in- 
definite— some  change  in  the  rainfall,  unregistered  by  any 
contemporary  *  New  York  Herald,'  made  the  waters  of 
these  big  lakes  shrink  and  evaporate.  Lake  Lahontan 
shrank  away  like  Alice  in  Wonderland,  till  there  was 
absolutely  nothing  left  of  it ;  Lake  Bonneville  shrank  till 
it  attained  the  diminished  size  of  the  existing  Great  Salt 
Lake.  Terrace  after  terrace,  running  in  long  parallel  lines 
on  the  sides  of  the  Wahsatch  Mountains  around,  mark  the 
various  levels  at  which  it  rested  for  awhile  on  its  gradual 
downward  course.  It  is  still  falling  indeed  ;  and  the  plain 
around  is  being  gradually  uncovered,  forming  the  white 
salt-encrusted  shore  with  which  all  visitors  to  the  Mormon 
city  are  so  familiar. 

But  why  should  the  water  have  become  briny  ?  Why 
should  the  evaporation  of  an  old  Superior  produce  at  last 
a  Great  Salt  Lake  ?  Well,  there  is  a  small  quantity  of  salt 
in  solution  even  in  the  freshest  of  lakes  and  ponds,  brought 
down  to  them  by  the  streams  or  rivers  ;  and,  as  the  water 
of  the  hypothetical  Lake  Bonneville  slowly  evaporated, 
the  salt  and  other  mineral  constituents  remained  behind. 
Thus  the  solution  grew  constantly  more  and  more  con- 
centrated, till  at  the  present  day  it  is  extremely  saline. 
Professor  Geikie  (to  whose  works  the  present  paper  is  much 
indebted)  found  that  he  floated  on  the  water  in  spite  of 
himself  ;  and  the  under  sides  of  the  steps  at  the  bathing- 
places  are  all  encrusted  with  short  stalactites  of  salt,  pro- 
duced from  the  drip  of  the  bathers  as  they  leave  the  water. 


FOSSIL  FOOD  279 

The  mineral  constituents,  however,  differ  considerahly  in 
their  proportions  from  those  found  in  true  salt  laken  of 
marine  origin  ;  and  the  point  at  which  the  salt  is  thrown 
down  is  still  far  from  having  been  reached.  Great  Salt 
Lake  must  simmer  in  the  sun  for  many  centuries  yet 
before  the  point  arrives  at  which  (as  cooks  say)  it  begins  to 
settle. 

That  is  the  way  in  which  deposits  of  salt  are  being  now 
produced  on  the  world's  surface,  in  preparation  for  that 
man  of  the  future  who,  as  we  learn  from  a  duly  constituted 
authority,  is  to  be  hairless,  toothless,  web-footed,  and  far 
too  respectable  ever  to  be  funny.  Man  of  the  present 
derives  his  existing  salt-supply  chiefly  from  beds  of  rock- 
salt  similarly  laid  down  against  his  expected  appearance 
some  hundred  thousand  a}ons  or  so  ago.  (An  aon  is  a  very 
convenient  geological  unit  indeed  to  reckon  by  ;  as  nobody 
has  any  idea  how  long  it  is,  they  can't  carp  at  you  for  a 
matter  of  an  teon  or  two  one  way  or  the  other.)  Rock-salt 
is  found  in  most  parts  of  the  world,  in  beds  of  very  various 
ages.  The  great  Salt  Eange  of  the  Punjaub  is  probably 
the  earliest  in  date  of  all  salt  deposits  ;  it  was  laid  down 
at  the  bottom  of  some  very  ancient  Asiatic  Mediterranean, 
whose  last  shrunken  remnant  covered  the  upper  basin  of 
the  Indus  and  its  tributaries  during  the  Silurian  age. 
Europe  had  then  hardly  begun  to  be  ;  and  England  was 
probably  still  covered  from  end  to  end  by  the  primaeval 
ocean.  From  this  very  primitive  salt  deposit  the  greater 
part  of  India  and  Central  Asia  is  still  supplied ;  and  the 
Indian  Government  makes  a  pretty  penny  out  of  the  dues 
in  the  shape  of  the  justly  detested  salt-tax — a  tax  especially 
odious  because  it  wrings  the  fraction  of  a  farthing  even 
from  those  unhappy  agricultural  labourers  who  have  never 
tasted  ghee  with  their  rice. 

The  thickness  of  the  beds  in  each  salt  deposit  of  course 


280  FOSSIL  FOOD 

depends  entirely  upon  the  area  of  the  original  sea  or 
salt-lake,  and  the  length  of  time  during  which  the  evapora- 
tion went  on.  Sometimes  we  may  get  a  mere  film  of  salt ; 
sometimes  a  solid  bed  six  hundred  feet  thick.  Perfectly 
pure  rock-salt  is  colourless  and  transparent ;  but  one 
doesn't  often  find  it  pure.  Alas  for  a  degenerate  world  I 
even  in  its  original  site,  Nature  herself  has  taken  the 
trouble  to  adulterate  it  beforeliand.  (If  she  hadn't  done 
so,  one  may  be  perfectly  sure  that  commercial  enterprise 
would  have  proved  equal  to  the  occasion  in  the  long  run.) 
But  the  adulteration  hasn't  spoilt  the  beauty  of  the  salt ; 
on  the  contrary,  it  serves,  like  rouge,  to  give  a  fine  fresh 
colour  where  none  existed.  When  iron  is  the  chief  colouring 
matter,  rock-salt  assumes  a  beautiful  clear  red  tint ;  in 
other  cases  it  is  emerald  green  or  pale  blue.  As  a  rule, 
salt  is  prepared  from  it  for  table  by  a  regular  process ;  but 
it  has  become  a  fad  of  late  with  a  few  people  to  put  crystals 
of  native  rock-salt  on  their  tables  ;  and  they  decidedly  look 
very  pretty,  and  have  a  certain  distinctive  flavour  of  their 
own  that  is  not  unpleasant. 

Our  English  salt  supply  is  chiefly  derived  from  the 
Cheshire  and  Worcestershire  salt-regions,  which  are  of  tri- 
assic  age.  Many  of  the  places  at  which  the  salt  is  mined 
have  names  ending  in  wich,  such  asNorthwich,  Middlewich, 
Nantwich,  Droitwich,  Netherwich,  and  Shirleywich.  This 
termination  tvicJi  is  itself  curiously  significant,  as  Canon 
Isaac  Taylor  has  shown,  of  the  necessary  connection 
between  salt  and  the  sea.  The  earliest  known  way  of  pro- 
ducing salt  was  of  course  in  shallow  pans  on  the  sea-shore, 
at  the  bottom  of  a  shoal  bay,  called  in  Norse  and  Early 
English  a  wick  or  wich  ;  and  the  material  so  produced  is 
still  known  in  trade  as  bay-salt.  By-and-by,  when  people 
came  to  discover  the  inland  brine-pits  and  salt  mines,  they 
transferred  to  them  the  familiar  name,  a  wich ;  and  the 


FOSSIL  FOOD  281 

places  where  the  salt  was  manufactured  came  to  ho  known  as 
wych-liouses.  Droitwicli,  for  example,  was  orifjinally  such 
a  wich,  whore  the  droits  or  dues  on  salt  were  paid  at  the  time 
when  William  the  Conqueror's  commissioners  drew  up  their 
great  survey  for  Domesday  Book.  But  the  f^ood,  easy-going 
mediiGval  people  who  gave  these  quaint  names  to  the  inland 
wiches  had  prohahly  no  idea  that  they  were  really  and  truly 
dried-up  hays,  and  that  the  salt  they  mined  from  their  pits 
was  genuine  ancient  bay-salt,  the  deposit  of  an  old  inland 
sea,  evaporated  by  slow  degrees  a  countless  number  of  ages 
since,  exactly  as  the  Dead  Sea  and  the  Great  Salt  Lake  are 
getting  evaporated  in  our  own  time. 

Such,  nevertheless,  is  actually  the  case.  A  good-sized 
Caspian  used  to  spread  across  the  centre  of  England  and 
north  of  Ireland  in  triassic  times,  bounded  here  and  there, 
as  well  as  Dr.  Hull  can  make  out,  by  the  Welsh  Mountains, 
the  Cheviots,  and  the  Donegal  Hills,  and  with  the  Peak  of 
Derbyshire  and  the  Isle  of  Man  standing  out  as  separate 
islands  from  its  blue  expanse.  (We  will  beg  the  question 
that  the  English  seas  were  then  blue.  They  are  certainly 
marked  so  in  a  very  fine  cerulean  tint  on  Dr.  Hull's  map 
of  Triassic  Britain.)  Slowly,  like  most  other  inland  seas, 
this  early  British  Caspiiin  began  to  lose  weight  and  to 
shrivel  away  to  ever  smaller  dimensions.  In  Devonshire, 
where  it  appears  to  havo  first  dried  up,  we  get  no  salt,  but 
only  red  marl,  with  here  and  there  a  cubical  cast,  filling  a 
hole  once  occupied  by  rock-salt,  though  the  percolation  of 
the  rain  has  long  since  melted  out  that  very  soluble  sub- 
stance, and  replaced  it  by  a  mere  mould  in  the  character- 
istic square  shape  of  salt  crystals.  But  Worcestershire  and 
Cheshire  were  the  seat  of  the  inland  sea  when  it  had  con- 
tracted to  the  dimensions  of  a  mere  salt  lake,  and  begun  to 
throw  down  its  dissolved  saline  materials.  One  of  the 
Cheshire  beds  is  sometimes  a  hundred  feet  thick  of  almost 


282  FOSSIL  FOOD 

pure  and  crystalliiio  rock-sjilt.  The  absftnce  of  fossils  shows 
that  animals  must  have  had  as  bad  a  time  of  it  there  as  in 
the  Dead  Sea  of  our  modern  Palestine.  The  Droitwich 
brine-pits  have  been  known  for  many  centuries,  since  they 
were  worked  (and  taxed)  even  before  the  Norman  Conquest, 
as  were  many  ether  similar  wells  elsewhere.  But  the 
actual  mining  of  rock-salt  as  such  in  England  dates  back 
only  as  far  as  the  reign  of  King  Charles  II.  of  blessed 
memory,  or  more  definitely  to  the  very  year  in  which  the 
•  Pilgrim's  Progress  '  was  conceived  and  written  by  John 
Bunyan.  During  that  particular  summer,  an  enterprising 
person  at  Nantwich  had  sunk  a  shaft  for  coal,  which  he 
failed  to  find ;  but  on  his  way  down  he  came  unexpectedly 
across  the  bed  of  rock-salt,  then  for  the  first  time  discovered 
as  a  native  mineral.  Since  that  fortunate  accident  the  beds 
have  been  so  energetically  worked  and  the  springs  so 
energetically  pumped  that  some  of  the  towns  built  on  top 
of  them  have  got  undermined,  and  now  threaten  from  year 
to  year,  in  the  most  literal  sense,  to  cave  in.  In  fact,  one 
or  two  subsidences  of  considerable  extent  have  already  taken 
place,  due  in  part  no  doubt  to  the  dissolving  action  of  rain 
water,  but  in  part  also  to  the  mode  of  working.  The  mines 
are  approached  by  a  shaft ;  and,  when  you  get  down  to  the 
level  of  the  old  sea  bottom,  you  find  yourself  in  a  sort  of 
artificial  gallery,  whose  roof,  with  all  the  world  on  top  of 
it,  is  supported  every  here  and  there  by  massive  pillars 
about  fifteen  feet  thick.  Considering  that  the  salt  lies 
often  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  deep,  and  that  these  pillars 
have  to  bear  the  weight  of  all  that  depth  of  solid  rock,  it 
is  not  surprising  that  subsidences  should  sometimes  occur 
in  abandoned  shafts,  where  the  water  is  allowed  to  collect, 
and  slowly  dissolve  away  the  supporting  columns. 

Salt  is  a  necessary  article  of  food  for  animals,  but  in  a 
far  less  degree  than  is  commonly  supposed.      Each  of  us 


FOSSIL  FOOD  283 

eats  on  an  average  about  ten  times  as  much  salt  as  wo 
actually  require.  In  this  respect  popular  notions  are  as 
inexact  as  in  the  very  similar  case  of  the  supply  of  phos- 
phorus. Because  ]»hosphorus  is  needful  for  bniin  action, 
people  jump  fortliwith  to  the  absurd  conclusion  tliat  fish 
and  other  foods  rich  in  pliosphatos  ou,L,dit  to  be  specially 
good  for  students  preparing  for  examination,  great  thinkers, 
and  literary  men.  j\Iark  Twain  indeed  once  advised  a 
poetical  aspirant,  who  sent  him  a  few  verses  for  his  criti- 
cal opinion,  that  fish  was  very  feeding  for  the  brains  ;  ho 
would  recommend  a  couple  of  young  whales  to  begin  upon. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  is  more  phosphorus  in  our  daily 
bread,  than  would  have  sufliced  Shakespeare  to  write 
'  Hamlet,'  or  Newton  to  discover  the  law  of  gravitation. 
It  isn't  phosphorus  that  most  of  us  need,  but  brains  to  burn 
it  in.  A  man  might  as  well  light  a  fire  in  a  carriage,  because 
coal  makes  an  engine  go,  as  hope  to  mend  the  pace  of  his 
dull  pate  by  eating  fish  for  the  sake  of  the  phosphates. 

The  question  still  remains,  How  did  the  salt  originally 
get  there '?  After  all,  when  we  say  that  it  was  produced, 
as  rock-salt,  by  evaporation  of  the  water  in  inland  seas,  we 
leave  unanswered  the  main  problem,  How  did  the  brhie  in 
solution  get  into  the  sea  at  all  in  the  first  place  ?  Well,  one 
might  almost  as  well  ask.  How  did  anything  come  to  be 
upon  the  earth  at  any  time,  in  any  way  ?  How  did  the  sea 
itself  get  there  ?  How  did  this  planet  swim  into  existence 
at  all?  In  the  Indian  mythology  the  world  is  supported 
upon  the  back  of  an  elephant,  who  is  supported  upon  the 
back  of  a  tortoise  ;  but  what  the  tortoise  in  the  last  resort 
is  supported  upon  the  Indian  philosophers  prudently  say 
not.  If  we  once  begin  thus  pushing  back  our  inquiries 
into  the  genesis  of  the  cosmos,  we  shall  find  our  search 
retreating  step  after  step  ad  infinitmn.  The  negro  preacher, 
describing  the  creation  of  Adam,  and  drawing  slightly 
19 


284  FOSSIL  FOOD 

upon  his  imagination,  observed  that  when  our  prime  fore- 
father first  came  to  consciousness  he  found  himself*  sot  up 
a^^in  a  fence.'  One  of  liis  hearers  ventured  sceptically  to 
ejaculate, '  Den  whar  dat  fence  come  from,  ministah  ?  '  The 
outraged  divine  scratched  his  groy  wool  reflectively  for  a 
moment,  and  replied,  after  a  puuse,  with  stern  solemnity, 
*  Tree  more  ob  dem  questions  will  underi  iUie  de  whole 
system  ob  teology.' 

However,  we  are  not  permitted  humbly  to  imitate  the 
prudent  reticence  of  the  Indian  philosophers.  In  these 
days  of  evolution  hypotheses,  and  nebular  theories,  and 
kinetic  energy,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  the  q''  "^tion  why  the 
sea  is  salt  rises  up  irrepressible  and  imperatively  demands 
to  get  itself  answered.  There  was  a  sapient  inquirer, 
recently  deceased,  who  had  a  short  way  out  of  this  diffi- 
culty. He  held  that  the  sea  was  only  salt  because  of  all 
the  salt  rivers  that  run  into  it.  Considering  that  the 
salt  rivers  are  themselves  salted  by  passing  through  salt 
regions,  or  being  fed  by  saline  springs,  all  of  which  derive 
their  saltness  from  deposits  laid  down  long  ago  by  eva- 
poration from  earlier  seas  or  lake  basins,  thig  explanation 
savours  somewhai  of  circularity.  It  amounts  in  effect 
to  saying  that  the  sea  is  salt  because  of  the  large  amount 
of  saline  matter  which  it  holds  in  solution.  Cheese  is  also 
a  caseous  preparation  of  milk  ;  the  duties  of  an  archdeacon 
are  to  perform  archidiaconal  functions  ;  and  opium  puts  one 
to  sleep  because  it  possesses  a  soporific  virtue. 

Apart  from  such  purely  verbal  explanations  of  the  salt- 
ness of  the  sea,  however,  one  can  only  give  some  such 
account  of  the  way  it  came  to  be  '  the  briny  '  as  the 
following : — 

This  world  was  once  a  haze  of  fluid  light,  as  the  poets 
and  the  men  of  science  agree  in  informing  us.  As  soon  as  it 
began  to  cool  down  a  little,  the  heavier  materials  naturally 


FOSSIL  FOOD  285 

sank  towards  the  centre,  while  the  hfjfhtor,  now  represented 
by  the  ocean  and  the  atmosphere,  floated  in  a  gaseous  con- 
dition on  the  outside.  But  the  great  envelope  of  vapour 
thus  produced  did  not  consist  merely  of  the  constituents  of 
air  and  water  ;  many  other  gases  and  vapours  mingled  with 
them,  as  they  still  do  to  a  far  less  extent  in  our  existing 
atmosphere.  ])y-and-by,  as  the  cooling  and  condensing  pro- 
cess continued,  the  water  settled  down  from  the  condition  of 
steam  into  one  of  a  liquid  at  a  dull  red  heat.  As  it  condensed, 
it  carried  down  with  it  a  great  many  other  substances,  held  in 
solution,  whose  component  elements  had  previously  existed 
in  the  primitive  gaseous  atmosphere.  Thus  the  early  ocean 
which  covered  the  whole  earth  was  in  ail  prol>ability  not 
only  very  salt,  but  also  quite  thick  with  other  mineral  mat- 
ters close  up  to  the  point  of  saturation.  It  was  full  of  lime, 
and  raw  Hint,  and  sulpliates,  and  many  other  miscellaneous 
bodies.  Moreover,  it  was  not  only  just  as  salt  as  at  the  pre- 
sent day,  but  even  a  great  deal  Salter.  For  from  that  time 
to  this  evaporation  has  constantly  been  going  on  in  certain 
shallow  isolated  areas,  laying  down  great  bec^s  of  gypsum 
and  then  of  salt,  which  still  remain  in  the  sohd  condition, 
while  the  water  has,  of  course,  been  correspondingly  puri- 
fied. The  same  thing  has  likewise  happened  in  a  slightly 
different  way  with  the  lime  and  flint,  which  have  been 
separated  from  the  water  chiefly  by  living  animals,  and 
afterwards  deposited  on  the  bottom  of  the  ocean  in  immense 
layers  as  limestone,  chalk,  sandstone,  and  clay. 

Thus  it  turns  out  that  in  the  end  all  our  sources  of 
salt-supply  are  alike  ultimately  derived  from  the  briny 
ocean.  Whether  we  dig  it  out  as  solid  rock-salt  from  the 
open  quarries  of  the  Punjaub,  or  pump  it  up  from  brine- 
wells  sunk  into  the  triassic  rocks  of  Cheshire,  or  evaporate 
it  direct  in  the  salt-pans  of  England  and  the  shallow  saZi/iC5 
of  the  Mediterranean  shore,  it  is  still  at  bottom  essentially 


286  FOSSIL  FOOD 

S3a-salt.  However  distant  the  connection  may  seem,  our 
salt  is  always  in  the  last  resort  ohtained  from  the  material 
held  in  solution  in  some  ancient  or  modern  sea.  Even  the 
saline  springs  of  Canada  and  the  Northern  States  of 
America,  where  the  wapiti  love  to  congre<j^ato,  and  the 
nohle  hunter  lurks  in  the  thicket  to  murder  them  unper- 
ceived,  derive  their  saltnoss,  as  an  able  Canadian  geologist 
has  shown,  from  the  thinly  scattered  salts  still  retained 
among  the  sediments  of  that  very  archaic  sea  whose  pre- 
cipitates form  the  earliest  known  life-bearing  rocks.  To 
the  Homeric  Greek,  as  to  Mr.  Dick  Swiveller,  the  ocean 
was  always  the  briny  :  to  modern  science,  on  the  other 
hand  (which  neither  of  those  worthies  would  probably  have 
appreciated  at  its  own  valuation),  the  briny  is  always  the 
oceanic.  The  fossil  food  which  we  find  to-day  on  all 
our  dinner-tables  dates  back  its  origin  primarily  to  the 
first  seas  that  ever  covered  the  surface  of  our  planet,  and 
secondarily  to  the  great  rock  deposits  of  the  dried-up 
triassic  inland  sea.  And  yet  even  our  men  of  science 
habitually  describe  that  ancient  mineral  as  common  salt. 


OGBUKY  BARROWS  287 


OGBURY  BARROWS 

We  went  to  Ogbury  Barrows  on  an  archnoological  expedi- 
tion. And  as  the  very  name  of  archfeology,  owing  to  a 
serious  misconception  incidental  to  human  nature,  is 
enough  to  deter  most  people  from  taking  any  further 
interest  in  our  proceedings  when  once  we  got  there,  I  may 
as  well  begin  by  explaining,  for  the  benefit  of  those  Avho 
have  never  been  to  one,  the  method  and  manner  of  an 
archfEological  outing. 

The  first  thing  you  have  to  do  is  to  catch  your  secre- 
tary. The  genuine  secretary  is  born,  not  made ;  and 
therefore  you  have  got  to  catch  him,  not  to  appoint 
him.  Appointing  a  secretary  is  pure  vanity  and  vexation 
of  spirit ;  you  must  find  the  right  man  made  ready  to  your 
hand ;  and  when  you  have  found  him  you  will  soon  see 
that  he  slips  into  the  onerous  duties  of  the  secretariat  as  if 
to  the  manner  born,  by  pure  instinct.  The  perfect  secre- 
tary is  an  urbane  old  gentleman  of  mature  years  and  portly 
bearing,  a  dignified  representative  of  British  archaeology, 
with  plenty  of  money  and  plenty  of  leisure,  possessing  a 
heaven-born  genius  for  organisation,  and  utterly  unham- 
pered by  any  foolish  views  of  his  own  about  archaeological 
research  or  any  other  kindred  subject.  The  secretary  who 
archfleologises  is  lost.  His  business  is  not  to  discourse 
of  early  English  windows  or  of  palasolithic  hatchets,  of 
buried  villas  or  of  Plantagenet  pedigrees,  of  Roman  tile- 


288  OGBURY  BARROWS 

work  or  of  dolichocephalic  skulls,  but  to  provide  abundant 
brakes,  drags,  and  carriages,  to  take  care  that  the  owners 
of  castles  and  baronial  residences  throw  them  open  (with 
lunch  provided)  to  the  ardent  student  of  British  antiquities, 
to  see  that  all  the  old  ladies  have  somebody  to  talk  to,  and 
all  the  young  ones  somebody  to  flirt  with,  and  generally  to 
superintend  the  morals,  happiness,  and  personal  comfort  of 
Bome  fifty  assorted  scientific  enthusiasts.  The  secretary 
who  diverges  from  these  his  proper  and  elevated  functions 
into  trivial  and  puerile  disquisitions  upon  ihe  antiquity  of 
man  (when  he  ought  rather  to  be  admiring  the  juvenility 
of  woman),  or  the  precise  date  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  con- 
quest (when  he  should  by  rights  be  concentrating  the  whole 
force  of  his  massive  intellect  upon  the  arduous  task  of 
arranging  for  dinner),  proves  himself  at  once  unworthy  of 
his  high  position,  and  should  forthwith  be  deposed  from 
the  secretariat  by  public  acclamation. 

Having  once  entrapped  your  perfect  secretary,  you  set 
him  busily  to  work  beforehand  to  make  all  the  arrange- 
ments for  your  expected  excursion,  the  archjEologists 
generally  cordially  recognising  the  important  principle 
that  he  pays  all  the  expenses  he  incurs  out  of  his  own 
pocket,  and  drives  splendid  bargains  on  their  account  with 
hotel-keepers,  coachmen,  railway  companies,  and  others  to 
feed,  lodge,  supply,  and  convey  them  at  fabulously  low 
prices  throughout  the  whole  expedition.  You  also  under- 
stand that  the  secretary  will  call  upon  everybody  in  the 
neighbourhood  you  propose  to  visit,  induce  the  rectors  to 
throw  open  their  churches,  square  the  housekeepers  of 
absentee  dukes,  and  beard  the  owners  of  Elizabethan 
mansions  in  their  own  dens.  These  little  preliminaries 
being  amicably  settled,  you  get  together  your  archseologists 
and  set  out  upon  your  intended  tour. 

An  archaeologist,  it  should  be  further  premised,  has  no 


OGBURY  BARROWS  289 

necessary  personal  connection  witli  arclineology  in  any  way. 
He  (or  she)  is  a  human  being,  of  assorted  origin,  age,  and 
sex,  known  as  an  archtcologist  then  and  there  on  no  other 
ground  than  the  possession  of  a  ticket  (price  half-a-guinea) 
for  that  particular  archfeological  meeting.  Who  would 
not  be  a  man  (or  woman)  of  science  on  such  easy  and  un- 
exacting  terms  ?  Moft  archaeologists  within  my  own 
private  experience,  indeed,  are  ladies  of  various  ages,  many 
of  them  elderly,  but  many  more  young  and  pretty,  whose 
views  about  the  styles  of  English  architecture  or  the  exact 
distinction  between  Durotriges  and  Damnonians  are  of  the 
vaguest  and  most  shadowy  possible  description.  You  all 
drive  in  brakes  together  to  the  various  points  of  interest  in 
the  surrounding  country.  When  you  arrive  at  a  point  of 
interest,  somebody  or  other  with  a  bad  cold  in  bis  head 
reads  a  dull  paper  on  its  origin  and  nature,  in  which  there 
is  fortunately  no  subsequent  examination.  If  you  are 
burning  to  learn  all  about  it,  you  put  your  hand  up  to 
your  ear,  and  assume  an  attitude  of  profound  attention. 
If  you  are  not  burning  with  the  desire  for  information, 
you  stro]l  off  casually  about  the  grounds  and  gardens 
with  the  prettiest  and  pleasantest  among  the  archaeological 
sisters,  whose  acquaintance  you  have  made  on  the  way 
thither.  Sometimes  it  rains,  and  then  you  obtain  an 
admirable  chance  of  offering  your  neighbour  the  protection 
afforded  by  your  brand-new  silk  umbrella.  By-and-by  the 
dull  paper  gets  finished,  and  som.ebody  who  lives  in  an 
adjoining  house  volunteers  to  provide  you  with  luncheon. 
Then  you  adjourn  to  the  parish  church,  where  an  old 
gentleman  of  feeble  eyesight  reads  a  long  and  tedious 
account  of  all  the  persons  whose  monuments  are  or  are  not 
to  be  found  upon  the  walls  of  that  poky  little  building. 
Nobody  listens  to  him  ;  but  everybody  carries  away  a  vague 
impression  that  some  one  or  other,  temp.  Henry  the  Second, 


290  OGBURY  BARROWS 

married  Adeliza,  daughter  and  heiress  of  Sir  Ralph  de 
Thingumbob,  and  had  issue  thirteen  stalwart  sons  and 
twenty-seven  beautiful  daughters,  each  founders  of  a  noble 
family  with  a  correspondingly  varied  pedigree.  Finally, 
you  take  tea  and  ices  upon  somebody's  lawn,  by  special 
invitation,  and  drive  home,  not  without  much  laughter,  in 
the  cool  of  the  evening  to  an  excellent  table  d'hote  dinner 
at  the  marvellously  cheap  hotel,  presided  over  by  the  ever- 
smiling  and  urbane  secretary.  That  is  what  we  mean  now- 
adays by  being  a  member  of  an  archa?ological  association. 

It  was  on  just  such  a  pleasant  excursion  that  we  all 
went  to  Ogbury  Barrows.  I  was  overflowing,  myself,  with 
bottled-up  information  on  the  subject  of  those  two  pre- 
historic tumuli ;  for  Ogbury  Barrows  have  been  the  hobby 
of  my  lifetime  ;  but  I  didn't  read  a  paper  upon  their  origin 
and  meaning,  first,  because  the  secretary  very  happily  for- 
got to  ask  me,  and  secondly,  because  I  was  much  better 
employed  in  psychological  research  into  the  habits  and 
manners  of  an  extremely  pretty  pink-and-white  archaeo- 
logist who  stood  beside  me.  Instead,  therefore,  of  boring 
her  and  my  other  companions  with  all  my  accumulated 
store  of  information  about  Ogbury  Barrows,  I  locked  it  up 
securely  in  my  own  bosom,  with  the  fell  design  of  finally 
venting  it  all  at  once  in  one  vast  flood  upon  the  present 
article. 

Ogbury  Barrows,  I  would  have  said  (had  it  not  been  for 
the  praiseworthy  negligence  of  our  esteemed  secretary), 
stand  upon  the  very  verge  of  a  great  chalk-down,  over- 
looking a  broad  and  fertile  belt  of  valley,  whose  slopes  are 
terraced  in  the  quaintest  fashion  with  long  parallel  lines  of 
obviously  human  and  industrial  origin.  The  terracing 
must  have  been  done  a  very  long  time  ago  indeed,  for  it  is 
a  device  for  collecting  enough  soil  on  a  chalky  hillside  to 
grow  corn  in.     Now,  nobody  ever  tried  to  grow  corn  on 


OGBURY  BARROWS  291 

open  chalk-downs  in  any  civilised  period  of  history  until 
the  present  century,  because  the  downs  are  so  much  more 
naturally  adapted  for  sheep-walks  that  the  attempt  to  turn 
them  into  waving  cornfields  would  never  occur  to  anybody 
on  earth  except  a  barbarian  or  an  advanced  agriculturist. 
But  when  Ogbury  Powns  v;cre  originally  terraced,  I  don't 
doubt  that  the  primitive  system  c/  universal  tribal  warfare 
still  existed  everywhere  in  Britain.  This  system  is  aptly 
summed  up  in  the  familiar  modern  Black  Country 
formula,  '  Yon's  a  stranger.  'Eave  'arf  a  brick  at  him.' 
Each  tribe  was  then  perpetually  at  war  with  every  other 
tribe  on  either  side  of  it :  a  simple  plan  which  rendered 
foreign  tariffs  quite  unnecessary,  and  most  eflectually  pro- 
tected home  industries.  The  consequence  was,  each  dis- 
trict had  to  produce  for  its  own  tribe  all  the  necessaries 
of  life,  however  ill- adapted  by  nature  for  their  due  pro- 
duction :  because  traffic  and  barter  did  not  yet  exist,  and 
the  only  form  ever  assumed  by  import  trade  was  that  of 
raiding  on  your  neighbours'  territories,  and  bringing  back 
with  you  whatever  you  could  lay  hands  on.  So  the  people 
of  the  chalky  Ogbury  valley  had  perforce  to  grow  corn  for 
themselves,  whether  nature  would  or  nature  wouldn't ; 
and,  in  order  to  grow  it  under  such  very  unfavourable  cir- 
cumstances of  soil  and  climate,  they  terraced  off  the  entire 
hillside,  by  catching  the  silt  as  it  washed  slowly  down,  and 
keeping  it  in  place  by  artificial  barriers. 

On  the  top  of  the  down,  overlooking  this  curious  vale 
of  prehistoric  terraces,  rise  the  twin  heights  of  Ogbury 
Barrows,  familiar  landmarks  to  all  the  country  side  around 
for  many  miles.  One  of  them  is  a  tall,  circular  mound  or 
tumulus  surrounded  by  a  deep  and  well-marked  trench : 
the  other,  which  stands  a  little  on  one  side,  is  long  and 
narrow,  shaped  exactly  like  a  modern  grave,  but  of  com- 
paratively gigantic   and   colossal  proportions.      Even  the 


292  OGBURY  BARKOWS 

little  children  of  Ogbury  village  have  noticed  its  close 
resemblance  of  shape  and  outline  to  the  grassy  hillocks  in 
their  own  churchyard,  and  whisper  to  one  another  when 
they  play  upon  its  summit  that  a  great  giant  in  golden 
armour  lies  buried  in  a  stone  vault  underneath.  But  if 
only  they  knew  the  real  truth,  they  would  say  instead  that 
that  big,  ungainly,  overgrown  grave  covers  the  remains  of 
a  short,  squat,  dwarfish  chieftain,  akin  in  shape  and  feature 
to  the  Lapps  and  Finns,  and  about  as  much  unlike  a  giant 
as  human  nature  could  easily  manage.  It  maybe  regarded 
as  a  general  truth  of  history  th  it  the  greatest  men  don't 
by  any  means  always  get  the  bi^^gest  monument. 

The  archfEologists  in  becoming  prints  who  went  with 
us  to  the  top  of  Ogbury  Barrows  sagaciously  surmised 
(with  demonstrative  parasol)  that  *  these  mounds  must 
have  been  made  a  very  long  time  ago,  indeed.'  So  in  fact 
they  were :  but  though  they  stand  now  so  close  together, 
and  look  so  much  like  sisters  and  contemporaries,  one  is 
ages  older  than  the  other,  and  was  already  green  and 
grass-grown  with  immemorial  antiquity  when  the  fresh 
earth  of  its  neighbour  tumulus  was  first  thrown  up  by  its 
side,  above  the  buried  urn  of  some  long-forgotten  Celtic 
warrior.  Let  us  begin  by  considering  the  oldest  first,  and 
then  pass  on  to  its  younger  sister. 

Ogbury  Long  Barrow  is  a  very  ancient  monument  in- 
deed. Not,  to  be  sure,  one  quarter  so  ancient  as  the  days 
of  the  extremely  old  master  who  carved  the  mammoth  on 
the  fragments  of  his  own  tusk  in  the  caves  of  the  Dordogne, 
and  concerning  whom  I  have  indited  a  discourse  in  an  earlier 
portion  of  this  volume  :  compared  with  that  very  antique 
personage,  our  long  barrow  on  Ogbury  hill- top  may  in  fact 
be  looked  upon  as  almost  modern.  Still,  when  one  isn't 
talking  in  geological  language,  ten  or  twenty  thousand 
years  may  be  fairly  considered  a  very  long  time  as  time 


OGBURY  BARROWS  293 

goes :  and  I  have  little  doubt  that  from  ten  to  twenty 
thousand  years  have  passed  since  the  short,  squat  chieftain 
aforesaid  was  first  committed  to  his  final  resting-place  in 
Ogbury  Long  Barrow.  Two  years  since,  we  local  archteo- 
logists — 7iot  in  becoming  prints  this  time — opened  the 
barrow  to  see  what  was  inside  it.  We  found,  as  we  ex- 
pected, the  '  stone  vault '  of  the  popular  tradition,  proving 
conclusively  that  some  faint  memory  of  the  original  inter- 
ment had  clung  for  all  those  long  years  around  the  grassy 
pile  of  that  ancient  tumulus.  Its  centre,  in  fact,  was 
occupied  by  a  sepulchral  chamber  built  of  big  Sarsen 
stones  from  the  surrounding  hillsides  ;  and  in  the  midst  of 
the  house  of  death  thus  rudely  constructed  lay  the  moulder- 
ing skeleton  of  its  original  possessor — an  old  prehistoric 
Mongoloid  chieftain.  When  I  stood  for  the  first  moment 
within  that  primaeval  palace  of  the  dead,  never  before 
entered  by  living  man  for  a  hundred  centuries,  I  felt,  I 
must  own,  something  like  a  burglar,  something  like  a  body- 
snatcher,  something  like  a  resurrection  man,  but  most  of 
all  like  a  happy  archfeologist. 

The  big  stone  hut  in  which  we  found  ourselves  was,  in 
fact,  a  buried  cromlech,  covered  all  over  (until  we  opened 
it)  by  the  earth  of  the  barrow.  Almost  every  cromlech, 
wherever  found,  was  once,  I  believe,  the  central  chamber 
of  just  such  a  long  barrow  :  but  in  some  instances  wind 
and  rain  have  beaten  down  and  washed  away  the  sur- 
rounding earth  (and  then  we  call  it  a  '  Druidical  monu- 
ment ' ),  while  in  others  the  mound  still  encloses  its 
original  deposit  (and  then  we  call  it  merely  a  prehistoric 
tumulus).  As  a  matter  of  fact,  even  the  Druids  themselves 
are  quite  modern  and  common-place  personages  compared 
with  the  short,  squat  chieftains  of  the  long  barrows.  For 
all  the  indications  we  found  in  the  long  barrow  at  Ogbury 
(as  in  many  others  we  had  opened  elsewhere)  led  us  at 


294  OGBURY  BARROWS 

onco  to  the  strani^e  conclusion  tliiit  our  new  acquaintance, 
the  skeleton,  had  once  been  a  living  cannibal  king  of  the 
newer  stone-a^^e  in  Britain. 

The  only  weapons  or  implements  we  could  discover  in  the 
barrow  were  two  neatly  chipped  flint  arrowheads,  and  a  very 
delicate  ground  greenstone  hatchet,  or  tomahawk.  Tliese 
were  the  weapons  of  the  dead  chief,  laid  beside  him  in  the 
stone  chamber  where  we  found  his  skeleton,  for  his  future 
use  in  his  underground  existence.  A  piece  or  two  of  rude 
liand-made  pottery,  no  doubt  containing  food  and  drink  for 
the  ghost,  had  also  been  placed  close  to  his  side  :  but  they 
had  mouldered  away  with  time  and  damp,  till  it  was  quite 
impossible  to  recover  more  than  a  few  broken  and  shape- 
less fragments.  There  was  no  trace  of  metal  in  any  way  : 
whereas  if  the  tribesmen  of  our  friend  the  skeleton  had 
known  at  all  the  art  of  smelting,  we  may  be  sure  some 
bronze  axe  or  spearhead  would  have  taken  the  place  of  the 
flint  arrows  and  the  greenstone  tomahawk  :  for  savages 
always  bury  a  man's  best  property  together  with  his  corpse, 
while  civilised  men  take  care  to  preserve  it  with  pious  care 
in  their  own  possession,  and  to  fight  over  it  strenuously  in 
the  court  of  probate. 

The  chief's  own  skeleton  lay,  or  rather  squatted,  in  the 
most  undignified  attitude,  in  the  central  chamber.  His 
people  when  they  put  him  there  evidently  considered  that 
he  was  to  sit  at  his  ease,  as  he  had  been  accustomed  to  do 
in  his  lifetime,  in  the  ordinary  savage  squatting  position, 
with  his  knees  tucked  up  till  they  reached  his  chin,  and 
his  body  resting  entirely  on  the  heels  and  haunches. 
The  skeleton  was  entire  :  but  just  outside  and  above  the 
stone  vault  we  came  upon  a  number  of  other  bones,  which 
told  another  and  very  different  story.  Some  of  them  were 
the  bones  of  the  old  prehistoric  short-horned  ox  :  others 
belonged   to   wild  boars,   red   deer,    and   sundry   similar 


OGBURY  BARROWS  295 

animals,  for  the  most  part  skulls  and  feet  only,  the  relics  of 
the  savage  funeral  feast.  It  was  clear  that  as  soon  as  the 
})uilder8  of  the  barrow  had  erected  the  stone  chamber  of 
their  dead  chieftain,  and  placed  within  it  his  lionoured 
remains,  they  had  held  a  {^'reat  banquet  on  tlie  spot,  and, 
after  killing  oxen  and  chasing  red  deer,  had  eaten  all  the 
eatable  portions,  and  thrown  the  skulls,  horns,  and  hoofs 
on  top  of  the  tomb,  as  otfurings  to  the  spirit  of  their  de- 
parted master.  But  among  these  relics  of  the  funeral 
baked  meats  there  were  some  that  specially  attracted  our 
attention — a  number  of  broken  human  skulls,  mingled 
indiscriminately  with  the  horns  of  deer  and  the  bones  of 
oxen.  It  was  impossible  to  look  at  them  for  a  single 
moment,  and  not  to  recognise  that  we  had  here  the  veri- 
table remains  of  a  cannibal  feast,  a  hundred  centuries  ago, 
on  Ogbury  hill-top. 

Each  skull  was  split  or  fractured,  not  clean  cut,  as  with 
a  sword  or  bullet,  but  hacked  and  hewn  with  some  blunt 
implement,  presumably  either  a  club  or  a  stone  tomahawk. 
The  skull  of  the  great  chief  inside  was  entire  and  his  skele- 
ton unmutilated  :  but  we  could  see  at  a  glance  that  the 
remains  we  found  huddled  together  on  the  top  were  those 
of  slaves  or  prisoners  of  war,  sacrificed  beside  the  dead 
chieftain's  tomb,  and  eaten  witli  the  other  products  of  the 
chase  by  his  surviving  tribesmen.  In  an  inner  cliambor 
behind  the  chieftain's  own  hut  we  came  upon  yet  a  stranger 
relic  of  primitive  barbarism.  Two  complete  human  skele- 
tons squatted  there  in  the  same  curious  attitude  as  their 
lord's,  as  if  in  attendance  upon  him  in  a  neighbouring 
ante-chamber.  They  were  the  skeletons  of  women — so  our 
professional  bone-scanner  immediately  told  us — and  each  of 
their  skulls  had  been  carefully  cleft  right  down  the  middle 
by  a  single  blow  from  a  sharp  stone  hatchet.  But  they 
were  not  the  victims  intended  for  the  piece  tie  r&sistance  at 


296  OGBURY  BARROWS 

the  funeral  banquet.  They  were  clearly  the  two  wives  of 
the  deceased  chieftain,  killed  on  his  tomb  by  his  son 
and  successor,  in  order  to  accompany  their  lord  and  master 
in  his  new  life  underj^'round  as  they  had  hitherto  done  in 
his  rude  wooden  palace  on  the  surface  of  the  middle  earth. 
We  covered  up  the  reopened  sepulchre  of  the  old  canni- 
bal savage  king  (alter  abstracting  for  our  local  nuiseum 
the  arrowheads  and  tomahawk,  as  well  as  the  skull  of  the 
very  ancient  Driton  himself),  and  when  our  archa}ological 
society,  ably  led  by  the  esteemed  secretary,  stood  two 
years  later  on  the  desecrated  tomb,  the  grass  had  grown 
again  as  green  as  ever,  and  not  a  sign  remained  of  the 
sacrilegious  act  in  which  one  of  the  party  then  assembled 
there  had  been  a  prime  actor.  Looking  down  from  the 
summit  of  the  long  barrow  on  that  bright  summer 
morning,  over  the  gay  group  of  picnicking  arclucologists,  it 
was  a  curious  contrast  to  reinstate  in  fancy  the  scene  at 
that  first  installation  of  the  Ogbury  monument.  In  my 
mind's  eye  I  saw  once  more  the  howling  band  of  naked, 
yellow-faced  and  yellow-limbed  savages  surge  up  the 
terraced  slopes  of  Ogbury  Down ;  I  saw  them  bear  aloft, 
with  beating  of  breasts  and  loud  gesticulations,  the  bent 
corpse  of  their  dead  chieftain  ;  I  saw  the  terrified  and 
fainting  wives  haled  along  by  thongs  of  raw  oxhide,  and 
the  weeping  prisoners  driven  passively  like  sheep  to  the 
slaughter ;  I  saw  the  fearful  orgy  of  massacre  and  rapine 
around  the  open  tumulus,  the  wild  priest  shattering  with 
his  gleaming  tomahawk  the  skulls  of  his  victims,  the  fire 
of  gorse  and  low  brushwood  prepared  to  roast  them,  the 
heads  and  feet  flung  carelessly  on  top  of  the  yet  uncovered 
stone  chamber,  the  awful  dance  of  blood-stained  cannibals 
around  the  mangled  remains  of  men  and  oxen,  and  finally 
the  long  task  of  heaping  up  above  the  stone  hut  of  the 
dead  king  the  earthen  mound  that  was  never  again  to  be 


OGIJURY  BARROWS  297 

opened  to  the  light  of  day  till,  ten  thousand  years  later,  we 
modern  Britons  invaded  with  our  pryinj,',  sacrik'f,'ioua 
mattock  the  sacred  privacy  of  that  cannihal  ghost.  All  this 
passed  liiio  a  vision  hefore  my  mind's  eye ;  hut  I  didn't 
mention  anything  of  it  at  that  particular  moment  to  my 
fcllow-archffiologists,  because  I  saw  they  were  all  nnich 
more  interested  in  the  pigeon-pie  and  the  funny  story  ahout 
an  exalted  personage  and  a  distinguished  actress  with  which 
the  model  secretary  was  just  then  duly  entertaining  them. 

Five  thousand  years  or  so  slowly  wore  away,  from 
the  date  of  the  erection  of  the  long  barrow,  and  a 
new  race  had  come  to  occupy  the  soil  of  England,  and 
had  driven  away  or  reduced  to  slavery  the  short,  squat, 
yellow-skinned  cannibals  of  the  earlier  epoch.  They  were 
a  pastoral  and  agricultural  people,  these  new  comers, 
acquainted  with  the  use  and  abuse  of  bronze,  and  far  more 
civilised  in  every  way  than  their  darker  predecessors.  No 
trace  remains  behind  to  tell  us  now  by  what  fierce  onslaught 
the  Celtic  invaders — for  the  bronze-age  folk  were  presum- 
ably Celts — swept  through  the  little  Ogbury  valley,  and 
brained  the  men  of  the  older  race,  while  they  made  slaves 
of  the  younger  women  and  serviceable  children.  Nothing 
now  stands  to  tell  us  anything  of  the  long  years  of  Celtic 
domination,  except  'ue  round  barrow  on  the  bare  down, 
just  as  green  and  as  grass-grown  nowadays  as  its  far 
earlier  and  more  primitive  neighbour. 

We  opened  the  Ogbury  round  barrow  at  the  same  time 
as  the  other,  and  found  in  it,  as  we  expected,  no  bones  or 
skeleton  of  any  sort,  broken  or  otherwise,  but  simply  a 
large  cinerary  urn.  The  urn  was  formed  of  coarse  hand- 
made earthenware,  very  brittle  by  long  burial  in  the  earth, 
but  not  by  any  means  so  old  or  porous  as  the  fragments  we 
had  discovered  in  the  long  barrow.  A  pretty  pattern  ran 
round  its  edge — a  pattern  in  the  simplest  and  most  primi- 


298  OGEUIIY  BARROWS 

tive  stylo  of  ornamentation  ;  for  it  consisted  merely  of  the 
print  of  tlio  potter's  thumb-nail,  firmly  pressed  into  tho 
moist  clay  before  i)aking.  Ik^sido  the  urn  lay  a  second 
specimen  of  early  pottery,  one  of  those  curious  perforated 
jara  ■which  antiquaries  call  by  tho  very  question-bej,'}^Mn|^ 
name  of  incense-cups  ;  and  within  it  we  discovered  the 
most  precious  part  of  all  our  *  find,'  a  beautiful  wed<,'e- 
shaped  bronze  hatchet,  and  three  thin  gold  beads.  Having 
no  consideration  for  the  feelings  of  the  ashes,  w<>  promptly 
appropriated  both  hatchet  and  beads,  and  took  the  urn  and 
cup  as  a  peace-olfering  to  the  lord  of  the  nuinor  for  our 
desecration  of  a  tomb  (with  his  full  consent)  on  the  land 
of  his  fathers. 

Why  did  these  bronze-age  people  burn  instead  of 
burying  their  dead  ?  Why  did  they  anticipate  the  latest 
fashionable  mode  of  disposal  of  corpses,  and  go  in  for 
cremation  with  such  thorough  conviction  ?  They  couldn't 
have  been  intluenced  by  those  rather  unpleasant  sanitary 
considerations  which  so  profoundly  agitated  the  mind  of 
*  Graveyard  Walker.'  Sanitation  was  still  in  a  very  rudi- 
mentary state  in  the  year  five  thousand  B.C. ;  and  tho 
ingenious  Celt,  who  is  still  given  to  '  waking '  his  neigh- 
bours, when  they  die  of  snudl-pox,  with  a  sublime  in- 
difference to  the  chances  of  infection,  must  have  had 
Bome  other  and  more  powerful  reason  for  adopting  the 
comparatively  unnatural  system  of  cremation  in  preference 
to  that  of  simple  burial.  The  change,  I  believe,  was  due 
to  a  further  development  of  religious  ideas  on  the  part  of 
the  Celtic  tribesmen  above  that  of  the  primitive  stone -age 
cannibals. 

When  men  began  to  bury  their  dead,  they  did  so  in  the 
firm  belief  in  another  life,  which  life  was  regarded  as  the 
exact  counterpart  of  this  present  one.  The  unsophisti- 
cated savage,  holding  that  in  tliat  equal  sky  his  faithful 


OOBURY  BARROWS  299 

dog  would  bear  him  company,  naturally  enough  had  the 
dog  in  question  killed  and  buried  with  him,  in  order  that  it 
might  follow  him  to  the  happy  hunting-grounds.  Clearly, 
you  can't  liunt  without  your  arrows  and  your  tomahawk  ; 
80  the  flint  weapons  and  the  trusty  bow  accompanied  their 
owner  in  his  new  dwelling-place.  The  wooden  haft,  the 
det  inew  bow-string,  tlie  perishable  articles  of  food  and 
driiK  iiavo  long  since  decayed  within  the  dump  tunmlus : 
but  the  harder  stone  and  earthoiware  articles  have  survived 
till  now,  to  tell  the  story  of  that  crude  and  simple  early 
faith.  Very  crude  and  illogical  indeed  it  was,  however, 
for  it  is  quite  clear  that  the  actual  body  of  the  dead  man 
was  thought  of  as  persisting  to  live  a  sort  of  underground 
life  within  the  barrow.  A  stone  hut  was  constructed  for 
its  use  ;  real  weapons  and  implements  were  left  by  its  side  ; 
and  slaves  and  wives  were  ruthlessly  massacred,  as  still  in 
Ashanteo,  in  order  that  their  bodies  might  accompany  the 
corpse  of  the  buried  master  in  his  subterranean  dwelling. 
In  all  this  we  have  clear  evidence  of  a  very  inconsistent, 
savage,  materialistic  belief,  not  indeed  in  the  innnortality 
of  the  soul,  but  in  the  continued  underground  life  of  the 
dead  body. 

With  the  progress  of  time,  however,  men's  ideas  upon 
these  subjects  began  to  grow  more  definite  and  more  con- 
sistent. Instead  of  the.  corpse,  we  get  the  ghost ;  instead 
of  the  material  underground  world,  we  get  the  idealised 
and  sublimated  conception  of  a  shadowy  Hades,  a  world 
of  shades,  a  realm  of  incorporeal,  disembodied  spirits. 
With  the  growth  of  the  idea  in  this  ghostly  nether  world, 
there  arises  naturally  the  habit  of  burning  the  dead  in  order 
fully  to  free  the  liberated  spirit  from  the  earthly  chains  that 
clog  and  bind  it.  It  is,  indeed,  a  very  noticeable  fact  that 
wherever  this   belief  in   a  world  of  shades  is  implicitly 

accepted,  there  cremation  follows  as  a  matter  of  course ; 
20 


300  OGBURY  BARRCWS 

while  wherever  (among  savage  or  bnrbaric  races)  burial  is 
practised,  there  a  more  materialistic  creed  of  bodily  survival 
necessarily  accompanies  it.  To  carry  out  this  theory  to  its 
full  extent,  not  only  must  the  body  itself  be  burnt,  but  also 
all  its  belongings  with  it.  Ghosts  are  clothed  in  ghostly 
clothing  ;  and  the  question  has  often  been  asked  of  modern 
spiritualists  by  materialistic  scoffers,  '  \Vhere  do  the  ghosts 
get  their  coats  and  dresses  ?  '  The  true  believer  in  crema- 
tion and  the  shadowy  world  has  no  difficulty  at  all  in 
answering  that  crucial  inquiry  ;  he  would  say  at  once, 
'  They  are  the  ghosts  of  the  clothes  that  were  burnt  with 
the  body.'  In  the  gossiping  story  of  Periander,  as  vera- 
ciously  retailed  for  us  by  that  dear  old  grandmotherly 
scandalmonger,  Herodotus,  the  shade  of  Melissa  refuses  to 
communicate  with  her  late  husband,  by  medium  or  other- 
wise, on  the  ground  that  she  found  herself  naked  and 
shivering  with  cold,  because  the  garments  buried  with  her 
had  not  been  burnt,  and  therefore  were  of  no  use  to  her  in 
the  world  of  shades.  So  Periander,  to  put  a  stop  to  this 
sad  state  of  spiritual  destitution,  requisitioned  all  the  best 
dresses  of  the  Corinthian  ladies,  burnt  them  bodily  in  a 
great  trench,  and  received  an  immediate  answer  from  the 
gratified  shade,  who  was  thenceforth  enabled  to  walk  about 
in  the  principal  promenades  of  Hades  among  the  best- 
dressed  ghosts  of  that  populous  quarter. 

The  belief  which  thus  survived  among  the  civilised 
Greeks  of  the  age  of  the  Despots  is  shared  still  by  Fijis  and 
Karens,  and  was  derived  by  all  in  common  from  early 
ancestors  of  like  faith  with  the  founders  of  Ogbury  round 
barrow.  The  weapons  were  broken  and  the  clothes  burnt, 
to  liberate  their  ghosts  into  the  world  of  spirits,  just  as 
now,  in  Fiji,  knives  and  axes  have  their  spiritual  counter- 
parts, which  can  only  be  released  when  the  material  shape 
is  destroyed  or  purified  by  the  action  of  fire.     Everything, 


OGBURY  BARROWS  301 

in  sucli  a  state,  is  supposed  to  possess  a  soul  of  its  own ; 
and  the  fire  is  the  chosen  mode  for  setting  the  soul  free 
from  all  clogging  earthly  impurities.  So  till  yesterday,  in 
the  rite  of  suttee,  the  Hindoo  widow  immolated  horself  upon 
lier  husband's  pyre,  in  order  that  her  spirit  might  follow 
him  unhampered  to  the  world  of  ghosts  whither  he  was 
bound.  Thus  the  twin  barrows  on  Ogbury  hillside  bridge 
over  for  us  two  vast  epochs  of  human  culture,  both  now  so 
remote  as  to  merge  together  mentally  to  the  casual  eyes  of 
modern  observers,  but  yet  in  reality  marking  in  their  very 
shape  and  disposition  an  immense,  long,  and  slow  advance 
of  human  reason.  For  just  as  the  long  barrow  answers  in 
form  to  the  buried  human  corpse  and  the  chambered  hut 
that  surrounds  and  encloses  it,  so  does  the  round  barrow 
answer  in  form  to  the  urn  containing  the  calcined  ashes  of 
the  cremated  barbarian.  And  is  it  not  a  suggestive  fact 
that  when  we  turn  to  the  little  graveyard  by  the  church 
below  we  find  the  Christian  belief  in  the  resurrection  of  the 
body,  as  opposed  to  the  pagan  belief  in  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  once  more  bringing  us  back  to  the  small  oblong 
mound  which  is  after  all  but  the  dwarfed  and  humbler 
modern  representative  of  the  long  barrow  ?  So  deep  is 
the  connection  between  that  familiar  shape  and  the  practice 
of  inhumation  tliat  the  dwarf  long  barrow  seems  everywhere 
to  have  come  into  use  again  throughout  all  Europe,  after 
whole  centuries  of  continued  cremation,  as  tlie  natural  con- 
comitant and  necessary  mark  of  Christian  burial. 

This  is  what  I  would  have  said,  if  I  had  been  asked,  at 
Ogbury  Barrows.  But  I  wasn't  asked  ;  so  I  devoted  myself 
instead  to  psychological  research,  and  said  nothing. 


302  FISH  OUT  OF  WATEB 


FISH  OUT  OF  WATER 

Steolling  one  day  in  what  is  euphemistically  termed,  in 
equatorial  latitudes,  '  the  cool  of  the  evening,'  along  a 
tangled  tropical  American  field-path,  through  a  low  region 
of  lagoons  and  watercourses,  my  attention  happened  to  be 
momentarily  attracted  from  the  monotonous  pursuit  of 
the  nimble  mosquito  by  a  small  animal  scuttling  along 
irregularly  before  me,  as  if  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  out 
of  my  way  before  I  could  turn  him  into  an  excellent 
specimen.  At  first  sight  I  took  the  little  hopper,  in  the 
grey  dusk,  for  one  of  the  common,  small  green  lizards, 
and  wasn't  much  disposed  to  pay  it  any  distinguished 
share  either  of  personal  or  scientific  attention.  But  as  I 
walked  on  a  little  further  through  the  dense  underbrush, 
more  and  more  of  these  shuffling  and  scurrying  little 
creatures  kept  crossing  the  path,  hastily,  all  in  one  di- 
rection, and  all,  as  it  were,  in  a  formed  body  or  marching 
phalanx.  Looking  closer,  to  my  great  surprise,  I  found 
they  were  actually  fish  out  of  water,  going  on  a  walking 
tour,  for  change  of  air,  to  a  new  residence — genuine  fish, 
a  couple  of  inches  long  each,  not  eel- shaped  or  serpen- 
tine in  outline,  but  closely  resembling  a  red  mullet  in 
miniature,  though  much  more  beautifully  and  delicately 
coloured,  and  with  fins  and  tails  of  the  most  orthodox 
spiny  and  prickly  description.  They  were  travelling 
across  country  in  a  bee-line,  thousands  of  them  together, 


FISH  OUT  OF  WATER  303 

not  at  all  like  the  helpless  fish  out  of  water  of  popular 
imagination,  but  as  unconcernedly  and  naturally  as  if  they 
had  been  accustomed  to  the  overland  route  for  their  whole 
lifetimes,  and  were  walking  now  on  the  king's  highway 
without  let  or  hindrance. 

I  took  one  up  in  my  hand  and  examined  it  more  care- 
fully ;  though  the  catching  it  wasn't  by  any  means  so  easy 
as  it  sounds  on  paper,  for  these  perambulatory  fish  are 
thoroughly  inured  to  the  dangers  and  difficulties  of  dry 
land,  and  can  get  out  of  your  way  when  you  try  to  capture 
them  with  a  rapidity  and  dexterity  which  are  truly  sur- 
prising. The  little  creatures  are  very  pretty,  well-formed 
catfish,  with  bright,  intelligent  eyes,  and  a  body  armed  all 
over,  like  the  armadillo's,  with  a  continuous  coat  of  hard 
and  horny  mail.  This  coat  is  not  formed  of  scales,  as  in 
most  fish,  but  of  toughened  skin,  as  in  crocodiles  and 
alligators,  arranged  in  two  overlapping  rows  of  imbricated 
.shields,  exactly  like  the  round  tiles  so  common  on  the 
roofs  of  Italian  cottages.  The  fish  walks,  or  rather 
shambles  along  ungracefully,  by  the  shuffling  movement 
of  a  pair  of  stiff  spines  placed  close  behind  his  head,  aided 
by  the  steering  action  of  his  tail,  and  a  constant  snake-like 
wriggling  motion  of  his  entire  body.  Leg  spines  of  some- 
what the  same  sort  are  found  in  the  common  English 
gurnard,  and  in  this  age  of  Aquariums  and  Fisheries 
Exhibitions,  most  adult  persons  above  the  age  of  twenty- 
one  years  must  have  observed  the  gurnards  themselves 
crawling  along  suspiciously  by  their  aid  at  the  bottom  of  a 
tank  at  the  Crystal  Palace  or  the  polyonymous  South 
Kensington  building.  But  while  the  European  gurnard 
only  uses  his  substitutes  for  legs  on  the  bed  of  the  ocean, 
my  itinerant  tropical  acquaintance  (his  name,  I  regret  to 
say,  is  Callichthys)  uses  them  boldly  for  terrestrial  loco- 
motion across   the   dry  lowlands   of  his   native   country. 


304  FISH   OUT  OF  WATER 

And  while  the  gurnard  lias  no  less  than  six  of  these 
pro-legs,  the  American  land  fish  has  only  a  single  pair 
with  which  to  accomplish  his  arduous  journeys.  If  this 
be  considered  as  a  point  of  inferiority  in  the  armour- 
plated  American  species,  we  must  remember  that  while 
beetles  and  grasshoppers  have  as  many  as  six  legs  apiece, 
man,  the  head  and  crown  of  things,  is  content  to  scramble 
through  life  ungracefully  with  no  more  than  two. 

There  are  a  great  many  tropical  American  pond-fish 
which  share  these  adventurous  gipsy  habits  of  the  pretty 
little  Callichthys.  Though  they  belong  to  two  distinct 
groups,  otherwise  unconnected,  the  circumstances  of  the 
country  they  inhabit  have  induced  in  both  families  this 
queer  fashion  of  waddling  out  courageously  on  dry  land, 
and  going  on  voyages  of  exploration  in  search  of  fresh 
ponds  and  shallows  new,  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  their  late  residence.  One  kind  in  particular,  the 
Brazilian  Doras,  takes  land  journeys  of  such  surprising 
length,  that  he  often  spends  several  nights  on  the  way, 
and  the  Indians  who  meet  the  wandering  bands  during 
their  migrations  fill  several  baskets  full  of  the  prey  thus 
dropped  upon  them,  as  it  were,  from  the  kindly  clouds. 

Both  Doras  and  Callichthys,  too,  are  well  provided 
with  means  of  defence  against  the  enemies  they  may 
chance  to  meet  during  their  terrestrial  excursions  ;  for  in 
both  kinds  there  are  the  same  bony  shields  along  the  sides, 
securing  the  little  travellers,  as  far  as  possible,  from  attack 
on  the  part  of  hungry  piscivorous  animals.  Doras  further 
utilises  its  powers  of  living  out  of  water  by  going  ashore 
to  fetch  dry  leaves,  with  which  it  builds  itself  a  regular 
nest,  like  a  bird's,  at  the  beginning  of  the  rainy  season. 
In  this  nest  the  affectionate  parents  carefully  cover  up 
their  eggs,  the  hope  of  the  race,  and  watch  over  them  with 
the  utmost  attention.     Many  other  fish  build  nests  in  the 


FISH  OUT  OF  WATER  305 

water,  of  materials  naturally  found  at  the  bottom  ;  but 
Doras,  I  believe,  is  the  only  one  that  builds  them  on  the 
beach,  of  mateiiuls  sought  for  on  the  dry  land. 

Such  amphibious  habits  on  the  part  of  certain  tropical 
fish  are  easy  enough  to  explain  by  the  fashionable  clue  of 
*  adaptation  to  environment.'  Ponds  are  always  very 
likely  to  dry  up,  and  so  the  animals  that  frequent  ponds 
are  usually  capable  of  bearing  a  very  long  deprivation 
of  water.  Indeed,  our  evolutionists  generally  hold  that 
land  animals  have  in  every  case  sprung  from  pond  animals 
which  have  gradually  adapted  themselves  to  do  without 
water  altogether.  Life,  according  to  this  theory,  began  in 
the  ocean,  spread  up  the  estuaries  into  the  greater  rivers, 
thence  extended  to  the  brooks  and  lakes,  and  fhially 
migrated  to  tlie  ponds,  puddles,  swamps  and  marshes, 
whence  it  took  at  last,  by  tentative  degrees,  to  the  solid 
shore,  the  plains,  and  the  mountains.  Certainly  the 
tenacity  of  life  shown  by  pond  animals  is  very  remarkable. 
Our  own  English  carp  bury  themselves  deeply  in  the  mud 
in  winter,  and  there  remain  in  a  dormant  condition  many 
months  entirely  without  food.  During  this  long  hibernat- 
ing period,  they  can  be  preserved  alive  for  a  considerable 
time  out  of  water,  especially  if  their  gills  are,  from  time 
to  time,  slightly  moistened.  They  may  then  be  sent  to 
any  address  by  parcels  poet,  packed  in  wet  moss,  without 
serious  damage  to  their  constitution ;  though,  according 
to  Dr.  Giinther,  these  dissipated  products  of  civilisation 
prefer  to  have  a  piece  of  bread  steeped  in  brandy  put  into 
their  mouths  to  sustain  them  beforehand.  In  Holland, 
where  the  carp  are  not  so  sophisticated,  they  are  often 
kept  the  whole  winter  through,  hung  up  in  a  net  to  keep 
them  from  freezing.  At  first  they  require  to  be  slightly 
wetted  from  time  to  time,  just  to  acclimatise  them  gradu- 
ally to  so  dry  an  existence ;  but  after  a  while  they  adapt 


306  FISH   OUT  OF  WATER 

themselves  cheerfully  to  their  altered  circumstances,  and 
feed  on  an  occasional  frugal  meal  of  bread  and  milk  with 
Christian  resignation. 

Of  all  land-frequenting  fish,  however,  by  far  the  most 
famous  is  the  so-called  climbing  perch  of  India,  which  not 
only  walks  bodily  out  of  the  water,  but  even  climbs  trees 
by  means  of  special  spines,  near  the  head  and  tail,  so 
arranged  as  to  stick  into  the  bark  and  enable  it  to  wriggle 
its  way  up  awkwardly,  something  after  the  same  fashion 
as  the  'looping'  of  caterpillars.  The  tree-climber  is  a 
small  scaly  fish,  seldom  more  than  seven  inches  long ;  but 
it  has  developed  a  special  breathing  apparatus  to  enable  it 
to  keep  up  the  stock  of  oxygen  on  its  terrestrial  excursions, 
which  may  bo  regarded  as  to  some  extent  the  exact  con- 
verse of  the  means  employed  by  divers  to  supply  them- 
selves with  air  under  water.  Just  above  the  gills,  which 
form  of  course  its  natural  hereditary  breathing  apparatus, 
the  climbing  perch  has  invented  a  new  and  wholly  original 
water  chamber,  containing  within  it  a  frilled  bony  organ, 
which  enables  it  to  extract  oxygen  from  the  stored-up 
water  during  the  course  of  its  aerial  peregrinations. 
While  on  shore  it  picks  up  small  insects,  worms,  and 
grubs ;  but  it  also  has  vegetarian  tastes  of  its  own,  and 
does  not  despise  fruits  and  berries.  The  Indian  jugglers 
tame  the  climbing  perches  and  carry  them  about  with 
them  as  part  of  their  stock  in  trade  ;  their  ability  to  livo 
for  a  long  time  out  of  water  makes  them  useful  confede- 
rates in  many  small  tricks  which  seem  very  wonderful  to 
people  accustomed  to  believe  that  fish  die  almost  at  once 
when  taken  out  of  their  native  element. 

The  Indian  snakehead  is  a  closely  allied  species, 
common  in  the  shallow  ponds  and  fresh-water  tanks  of 
India,  Avhere  holy  Brahmans  bathe  and  drink  and  die  and 
are  buried,  and  most  of  which  dry  up  entirely  during  the 


FISH  OUT  OF  WATER  307 

dry  season.  The  snakeliead,  therefore,  has  similarly  ac- 
commodated himself  to  this  annual  peculiarity  in  his  local 
habitation  by  acquiring  a  special  chamber  for  retaining 
water  to  moisten  his  gills  throughout  his  long  deprivation 
of  that  prime  necessary.  He  lives  composedly  in  semi- 
fluid  mud,  or  lies  torpid  in  the  hard  baked  clay  at  the 
bottom  of  the  dry  tank  from  which  all  the  water  has 
utterly  evaporated  in  the  drought  of  summer.  As  long  as 
the  mud  remains  soft  enough  to  allow  the  fish  to  rise 
slowly  through  it,  they  come  to  the  surface  every  now  and 
then  to  take  in  a  good  hearty  gulp  of  air,  exactly  as  gold 
fish  do  in  England  when  confined  with  thoughtless  or 
ignorant  cruelty  in  a  glass  globe  too  small  to  provide 
sufficient  oxygon  for  their  respiration.  But  when  the  mud 
hardens  entirely  they  hibernate  or  rather  testivate,  in  a 
dormant  condition,  until  the  bursting  )f  the  monsoon  fills 
the  ponds  once  more  with  the  welcome  water.  Even  in 
the  perfectly  dry  state,  however,  they  probably  manage  to 
get  a  little  air  eveiy  now  and  again  through  the  numerous 
chinks  and  fissures  in  the  sun-baked  mud.  Our  A'yan 
brother  then  goes  a-fishing  playfully  with  a  spade  and 
bucket,  and  digs  the  snakeliead  in  this  mean  fashion  out 
of  his  comfortable  lair,  with  an  ultim.ate  view  to  the  manu- 
facture of  pillau.  In  Burmah,  indeed,  while  the  mud  is 
still  soft,  the  ingenious  Burmese  catch  the  helpless  creatures 
by  a  still  meaner  and  more  unsportsmanlike  device.  They 
spread  a  large  cloth  over  the  slimy  ooze  where  the  snake- 
heads  lie  buried,  and  so  cut  off  entirely  for  the  moment 
their  supply  of  oxygen.  The  poor  fish,  half-asphyxiated  by 
this  unkind  treatment,  come  up  gasping  to  the  surface  under 
the  cloth  in  search  of  fresh  air,  and  are  then  easily  caught 
with  the  hand  and  tossed  into  baskets  by  the  degenerate 
Buddhists. 

Old  Anglo-Indians  even  say  that  some  of  these  mud 


308  FISH   OUT  OF  WATER 

haunting  Oriental  iisli  will  survive  for  many  years  in  a 
state  of  suspended  animation,  and  that  when  ponds  or 
jhfls  which  are  known  to  have  been  dry  for  several  suc- 
cessive seasons  are  suddenly  filled  by  heavy  rains,  they 
are  found  to  be  swarming  at  once  with  full-grown  snake- 
heads  released  in  a  moment  from  what  I  may  venture  to 
call  their  living  tomb  in  tlie  hardened  bottom.  \Vhether 
Buch  statements  are  absolutely  true  or  not  the  present 
deponent  would  be  loth  to  decide  dogmatically ;  but,  if  we 
"were  implicitly  to  swallow  everything  that  the  old  Anglo- 
Indian  in  his  simplicity  assures  us  he  has  seen — well,  the 
clergy  would  have  no  further  cause  any  longer  to  deplore 
the  growing  scepticism  and  unbelief  of  these  latter  un- 
faithful ages. 

This  habit  of  lying  in  the  mud  and  there  becoming 
torpid  may  be  looked  upon  as  a  natural  alternative  to  the 
habit  of  migrating  across  country,  wlien  your  pond  dries 
up,  in  search  of  larger  and  more  permanent  sheets  ol 
water.  Some  fish  solve  the  problem  how  to  get  through 
the  dry  season  in  one  of  these  two  alternative  fashions  and 
some  in  the  other.  In  flat  countries  where  small  ponds 
and  tanks  alone  exist,  the  burying  plan  is  almost  uni- 
versal ;  in  plains  traversed  by  large  rivers  or  containing 
considerable  scattered  lakes,  the  migratory  system  finds 
greater  favour  with  the  piscine  population. 

One  tropical  species  which  adopts  the  tactics  of  hiding 
itself  in  the  hard  clay,  the  African  mud-fish,  is  specially 
interesting  to  us  human  beings  on  two  accounts — first, 
because,  unlike  almost  all  other  kinds  of  fish,  it  possesses 
lungs  as  well  as  gills  ;  and,  secondly,  because  it  forms  an 
intormediate  link  between  the  true  fish  and  the  fi'ogs  or 
amphibians,  and  therefore  stands  in  all  probability  in  the 
direct  line  of  human  descent,  being  the  living  representa- 
tive of  one  among  our  own  remote  and  early  ancestors. 


FISH  OUT  OF  WATER  309 

Scientific  interest  ami  filial  piety  ou^jht  alike  to  secure  our 
attention  for  the  African  mud-fish.  It  lives  its  amphi- 
bious life  amonj^  the  rice-fields  on  the  Nile,  the  Zambesi, 
and  the  Gambia,  and  is  so  greatly  given  to  a  terrestrial 
existence  that  its  swim-bladder  has  become  porous  and 
cellular,  so  as  to  be  modified  into  a  pair  of  true  and 
serviceable  lungs.  In  fact,  the  lungs  themselves  in  all  the 
higher  animals  are  merely  the  swiin-bladdcrs  of  iisli, 
slightly  altered  so  as  to  perform  a  now  but  closely  allied 
ollice.  The  mud-fish  is  common  enough  in  all  the  larger 
English  aquariums,  owing  to  a  convenient  habit  in  which 
it  indulges,  and  which  permits  it  to  be  readily  conveyed  to 
all  parts  of  the  globe  on  the  same  principle  as  the  vans  for 
furniture.  When  the  dry  season  comes  on  and  the  rice- 
fields  are  reduced  to  banks  of  baking  mud,  the  mud-fish 
retire  to  the  bottom  of  their  pools,  where  they  form  for 
themselves  a  sort  of  cocoon  of  hardened  clay,  lined  with 
mucus,  and  with  a  hole  at  each  end  to  admit  the  air  ;  and 
in  this  snug  retreat  they  remain  torpid  till  the  return  of 
wet  weather.  As  the  fish  usually  reach  a  length  of  three 
or  four  feet,  the  cocoons  are  of  course  by  no  means  easy  to 
transport  entire.  Nevertheless  the  natives  manage  to  dig 
them  up  whole,  fish  and  all ;  and  if  the  capsules  are  not 
broken,  the  unconscious  inmates  can  be  sent  across  by 
steamer  to  Europe  with  perfect  safety.  Their  astonishment 
when  they  finally  wake  up  after  their  long  slumber,  and  find 
themselves  inspecting  the  British  public,  as  introduced  to 
them  by  Mr.  Farini,  through  a  sheet  of  plate-glass,  must 
be  profound  and  interesting. 

In  England  itself,  on  the  other  hand,  we  have  at 
least  one  kind  of  fish  which  exemplifies  the  opposite  or 
migratory  solution  of  the  dry  pond  problem,  and  that  is 
our  familiar  friend  the  common  eel.  The  ways  of  eels  are 
indeed  mysterious,  for  nobody  has  ever  yet  succeeded  in 


310  FISH  OUT  OF  WATER 

discovering  where,  when,  or  how  they  manage  to  spawn  ; 
nobody  has  ever  yet  seen  an  eel's  egg,  or  caught  a 
female  eel  in  the  spawning  condition,  or  even  observed 
a  really  adult  male  or  female  specimen  of  perfect  deve- 
lopment. All  the  eels  ever  found  in  fresh  water  are 
immature  and  undeveloped  creatures.  But  eels  do  cer- 
tainly spawn  somewhere  or  other  in  the  deep  sea,  and 
every  year,  in  the  course  of  the  summer,  flocks  of  young 
ones,  known  as  elvers,  ascend  the  rivers  in  enormous 
quantities,  like  a  vast  army  under  numberless  leaders.  At 
each  tributary  or  affluent,  be  it  river,  brook,  stream,  or 
ditch,  a  proportionate  detachment  of  tlie  main  body  is 
given  off  to  explore  the  various  branches,  while  the 
central  force  wriggles  its  way  up  the  chief  channel,  regard- 
less of  obstacles,  with  undiminished  vigour.  When  the 
young  elvers  come  to  a  weir,  a  wall,  a  floodgate,  or  a 
lasher,  they  simply  squirm  their  way  up  the  perpendicular 
barrier  with  indescribable  wrigglings,  as  if  they  were 
wholly  unacquainted,  physically  as  well  as  mentally,  with 
Newton's  magnificent  discovery  of  gravitation.  Nothing 
stops  them  ;  they  go  wherever  water  is  to  be  found  ;  and 
though  millions  perish  hopelessly  in  the  attempt,  millions 
more  survive  in  the  end  to  attain  their  goal  in  the  upper 
reaches.  They  even  seem  to  scent  ponds  or  lakes  mys- 
teriously, at  a  distance,  and  will  strike  boldly  straight  across 
country,  to  sheets  of  water  wholly  cut  off  from  communi- 
cation with  the  river  which  forms  their  chief  highway. 

The  full-grown  eels  are  also  given  to  journeying  across 
country  in  a  more  sober,  sedate,  and  dignified  manner,  as 
becomes  fish  which  have  fully  arrived  at  years,  or  rather 
months,  of  discretion.  "When  the  ponds  in  which  they 
live  dry  up  in  summer,  they  make  in  a  bee-line  for  the 
nearest  sheet  of  fresh  water,  whose  direction  and  distance 
they  appear  to  know  intuitively,  through  some  strange 


FISH  OUT  OF  WATER  311 

instinctive  gcof^rapliical  faculty.  On  tlieir  way  across 
country,  they  do  not  despise  tlie  succulent  rat,  whom  they 
swallow  whole  when  caught  with  great  gusto.  To  keep 
tlieir  gills  wet  during  these  excursions,  eels  have  the  power 
of  distending  the  skin  on  each  side  of  the  neck,  just  below 
the  head,  so  as  to  form  a  big  pouch  or  swelling.  This 
pouch  they  fill  with  water,  to  carry  a  good  supply  along 
with  them,  until  they  reach  the  ponds  for  which  tliey  are 
making.  It  is  the  pouch  alone  that  enables  eels  to  live  so 
long  out  of  water  under  all  circumstances,  and  so  incident- 
ally exposes  them  to  the  disagreeable  experience  of  getting 
skinned  alive,  which  it  is  to  be  feared  still  forms  the  fate 
of  most  of  those  that  fall  into  the  clutches  of  the  human 
species. 

A  far  more  singular  walking  fish  than  any  of  these  is 
the  odd  creature  that  rejoices  (unfortunately)  in  the  very 
classical  surname  of  Perioplithalmus,  which  is,  being  inter- 
preted. Stare-about.  (If  he  had  a  recognised  English  name 
of  his  own,  I  would  gladly  give  it ;  but  as  he  hasn't,  and 
as  it  is  clearly  necessary  to  call  him  something,  I  fear  we 
must  stick  to  the  somewhat  alarming  scientific  nomen- 
clature.) Perioplithalmus,  then,  is  an  odd  fish  of  the 
tropical  Pacific  shores,  with  a  pair  of  very  distinct  forelegs 
(theoretically  described  as  modified  pectoral  fins),  and  with 
two  goggle  eyes,  which  lie  can  protrude  at  pleasure  right 
outside  the  sockets,  so  as  to  look  in  whatever  direction  lie 
chooses,  without  even  taking  the  trouble  to  turn  his 
head  to  left  or  right,  backward  or  forward.  At  ebb  tide 
this  singular  peripatetic  goby  literally  walks  straight 
out  of  the  water,  and  promenades  the  bare  beach  erect 
on  two  legs,  in  search  of  small  crabs  and  other  stray 
marine  animals  left  behind  by  the  receding  waters.  If  you 
try  to  catch  him,  he  hops  away  briskly  much  like  a  frog, 
and  stares  back  at  you  grimly  over  his  left  shoulder,  with 


312  FISH  OUT  OF  WATER 

Ilia  S(iuiiitinp;  optics.  So  completely  adapted  ia  he  for  thia 
ninpiiihious  lon^'-sliore  exiHtence,  tliat  his  big  eyea,  unlike 
those  of  most  other  lish,  are  formed  for  seeing  in  the  air 
ns  well  as  in  tlie  water.  Nothing  can  be  more  ludicrous 
tlian  to  watch  him  suddenly  thrusting  these  very  movable 
orbs  right  out  of  their  sockets  like  a  pair  of  telescopes,  and 
twisting  them  round  in  all  directions  so  as  to  see  in  front, 
behind,  on  top,  and  below,  in  one  delightful  circular  sweep. 

There  is  also  a  certain  curious  tropical  Anua*ican  carp 
which,  though  it  hardly  deserves  to  be  considered  in  the 
strictest  sense  as  a  fish  out  of  water,  yet  manages  to  fall 
nearly  half-way  under  that  peculiar  category,  for  it  always 
swims  with  its  head  partly  above  tlio  surface  and  partly 
below.  I)ut  the  funniest  thing  in  this  queer  arrangement 
is  the  fact  that  one  half  of  each  eye  is  out  in  the  air  and 
the  other  half  is  beneath  in  the  water.  Accordingly,  the 
eye  is  divided  horizontally  by  a  dark  strip  into  two  distinct 
and  unlike  portions,  the  upper  one  of  which  has  a  pupil 
adapted  to  vision  in  the  air  alone,  while  the  lower  is 
adapted  to  seeing  in  the  water  only.  The  fish,  in  fact, 
always  swims  with  its  eye  half  out  of  the  water,  and  it  can 
see  as  well  on  dry  land  as  in  its  native  ocean.  Its  name  is 
Anableps,  but  in  all  probability  it  docs  not  wish  the  fact  to 
be  generally  known. 

The  ilying  fish  are  fish  out  of  water  in  a  somewhat 
different  and  more  transitory  sense.  Their  aerial  excur- 
sions are  brief  and  rapid  ;  they  can  only  fly  a  very  little 
■way,  and  have  soon  to  take  once  more  for  safety  to  their 
o^vn  more  natural  and  permanent  element.  More  than 
forty  kinds  of  tlie  family  are  known,  in  appearance  very 
much  like  English  herrings,  but  with  the  front  fins 
expanded  and  modified  into  veritable  wings.  It  is  fashion- 
able now^adays  among  naturalists  to  assert  that  the  flying 
fish  don't  fly ;  that  they  merely  jump  horizontally  out  of 


I'ISII  OUT  OF  WATER  313 

the  water  with  a  powerful  impulse,  and  full  aj^ain  as  soon 
as  the  force  of  the  first  impetus  is  entirely  spent.  When 
men  endeavour  to  persuade  you  to  such  folly,  helieve  theui 
not.  For  my  own  pint,  I  have  scon  the  llyinj;  fish  fly- - 
deliberately  lly,  and  Ihitter,  and  rise  a<jfain,  and  cluui^'e  tho 
direction  of  thiir  lli^'ht  in  mid-air,  exactly  after  the  fasinon 
of  a  bij^  dragonfly.  If  the  otlier  people  who  have  watched 
tliem  haven't  succeeded  in  seeing  them  fly,  that  is  their 
own  fault,  or  at  least  their  own  misfortune  ;  perhaps  their 
eyes  weren't  quick  enough  to  catch  the  rapid,  though  to  mo 
perfectly  recognisable,  hovering  andlluttering  of  the  gauze- 
like wings  ;  but  1  have  seen  them  myself,  and  I  maintain 
that  on  such  a  question  one  piece  of  positive  evidence  is  a 
great  deal  better  than  a  hundred  negative.  The  testimony 
of  all  tlie  witnesses  who  didn't  see  the  murder  connnitted 
is  as  nothing  comv  ired  with  the  single  testimony  of  the 
one  man  who  really  did  see  it.  And  in  this  case  I  have 
met  with  many  other  quick  observers  who  fully  agreed  with 
me,  against  the  weight  of  scientific  opinion,  that  they  have 
seen  the  flying  fish  really  fly  with  their  own  eyes,  and  no 
mistake  about  it.  The  German  professors,  indeed,  all  think 
otherwise  ;  but  then  the  German  professors  all  wear  green 
spectacles,  which  are  the  outward  and  visible  sign  of'  blinded 
eyesight  poring  over  miserable  books.'  The  unsophisti- 
cated vision  of  the  noble  British  seaman  is  unanimously 
with  me  on  the  matter  of  the  reality  of  the  fishes'  flight. 

Another  group  of  very  interesting  fish  out  of  water  are 
the  flying  gurnards,  common  enough  in  the  Mediterranean 
and  the  tropical  Atlantic.  They  are  much  heavier  and  bigger 
creatures  than  the  true  flying  fish  of  the  herring  type, 
being  often  a  foot  and  a  half  long,  and  their  wings  are 
much  larger  in  proportion,  though  not,  I  think,  really  so 
powerful  as  those  of  their  pretty  little  silvery  rivals.  All 
the  flying  fish  fly  only  of  necessity,  not  from  choice.    They 


\ 

1 


314  FISH  OUT  OF  WATER 

leave  the  water  when  pursued  by  their  enemies,  or  when 
frightened  by  the  rapid  approach  of  a  big  steamer.  So 
swiftly  do  they  fly,  however,  that  they  can  far  outstrip  a 
ship  going  at  the  rate  of  ten  knots  an  hour  ;  and  I  have 
often  watched  one  keep  ahead  of  a  great  Pacific  liner  under 
full  steam  for  many  minutes  together  in  quick  successive 
flights  of  three  or  four  hundred  feet  each.  Oddly  enough, 
they  can  fly  further  against  the  wind  than  before  it — a  fact 
acknowledged  even  by  the  spectacled  Germans  themselves, 
and  very  hard  indeed  to  reconcile  with  the  orthodox  belief 
that  they  are  not  flying  at  all,  but  only  jumping.  I  don't 
know  whether  the  flying  gurnards  are  good  eating  or  not ; 
but  the  silve 'y  flying  fish  are  caught  for  market  (sad  dese- 
cration of  the  poetry  of  nature  !)  in  the  Windward  Islands, 
and  when  nicely  fried  in  egg  and  bread-crumb  are  really 
quite  as  good  for  practical  purposes  as  smelts  or  whiting  or 
any  other  prosaic  European  substitute. 

On  tlie  whole,  it  will  be  clear,  I  think,  to  the  impartial 
reader  from  this  rapid  survey  that  the  helplessness  and 
awkwardness  of  a  fish  out  of  water  has  been  much  ex- 
aggerated by  the  thoughtless  generalisation  of  unscientific 
humanity.  Granting,  for  argument's  sake,  that  most  fish 
prefer  the  water,  as  a  matter  of  abstract  predilection,  to 
the  dry  land,  it  must  be  admitted  pe?'  contra  that  many 
fish  cut  a  much  better  figure  on  terra  firma  than  most  of 
their  critics  themselves  would  cut  in  mid-ocean.  There 
are  fish  that  wriggle  across  country  intrepidly  with  the 
dexterity  and  agility  of  the  most  accomplished  snakes ; 
there  are  fish  that  walk  about  on  open  sand-banks,  semi- 
erect  on  two  legs,  as  easily  as  lizards  ;  there  are  fish  that 
hop  and  skip  on  tail  and  fins  in  a  manner  that  the  celebrated 
jumping  frog  himself  might  have  observed  with  envy  ;  and 
there  are  fish  that  fly  through  the  air  of  heaven  with  a 
grace  and  swiftness  that  would  put  to  shame  innumerable 


FISH  OUT  OF  WATER  315 

species  among  their  feathered  competitors.  Nay,  there  are 
even  fish,  hke  some  kinds  of  eels  and  the  African  mud-fish, 
that  scarcely  live  in  the  water  at  all,  but  merely  frequent 
wet  and  marshy  places,  where  they  lie  snugly  in  the  soft 
ooze  and  damp  earth  that  line  the  bottom.  If  I  have  only 
Bucceeded,  therefore,  in  relieving  the  mind  of  one  sensitive 
and  retiring  fish  from  the  absurd  obloquy  cast  upon  its 
appearance  when  it  ventures  away  for  awhile  from  its 
proper  element,  then,  in  the  pathetic  and  prophetic  words 
borrowed  from  a  thousand  uncut  prefaces,  this  work  will 
not,  I  trust,  have  been  written  in  vain. 


21 


316  THE  HRST  POTTER 


THE  FIRST  POTTER 

Collective  humanity  owes  a  great  debt  of  gratitude  to  the 
first  potter.  Before  his  days  the  art  of  boihng,  though  in 
one  sense  very  simple  and  primitive  indeed,  was  in  another 
sense  very  complex,  cumbersome,  and  lengthy.  The  un- 
sophisticated savage,  having  duly  speared  and  killed  his 
antelope,  proceeded  to  light  a  roaring  fire,  with  flint  or 
drill,  by  the  side  of  some  convenient  lake  or  river  in  his 
tropical  jungle.  Then  he  dug  a  big  hole  in  the  soft  mud 
close  to  the  water's  edge,  and  let  the  water  (rather  muddy) 
percolate  into  it,  or  sometimes  even  he  plastered  over  its 
bottom  with  puddled  clay.  After  that,  he  heated  some 
smooth  round  stones  red  hot  in  the  fire  close  by,  and 
drawing  them  out  gingerly  between  two  pieces  of  stick, 
dropped  them  one  by  one,  spluttering  and  fizzing,  into  his 
improvised  basin  or  kettle.  This,  of  course,  made  the 
■water  in  the  hole  boil ;  and  the  unsophisticated  savage 
thereupon  thrust  into  it  his  joint  of  antelope,  repeating  the 
process  over  and  over  again  until  the  sodden  meat  was 
completely  seethed  to  taste  on  the  outside.  If  one  applica- 
tion was  not  sufficient,  he  gnawed  off  t}'.e  cooked  meat  from 
the  surface  with  his  stout  teeth,  innocent  as  yet  of  the 
dentist's  art,  and  plunged  the  underdone  core  back  again, 
till  it  exactly  suited  his  not  over-delicate  or  dainty  fancy. 

To  be  sure,  the  primitive  savage,  unversed  as  he  was  in 
pastes  and  glazes,  in  moulds  and  ornaments,  did  not  pass 


THE  FIRST  POTTER  317 

his  life  entirely  devoid  of  cups  and  platters.  Coconut 
shell  and  calabash  rind,  horn  of  ox  and  skull  of  enemy, 
bamboo-joint  and  capacious  rhomb-shell,  all  alike,  no  doubt, 
supplied  him  with  congenial  implements  for  drink  or  storage. 
Like  Eve  in  the  Miltonic  Paradise,  there  lacked  him  not 
fit  vessels  pure  ;  picking  some  luscious  tropical  fruit,  the 
savoury  pulp  he  chewed,  and  in  the  rind  still  as  he  thirsted 
scooped  the  brimmirig  stream.  This  was  satisfactory  as 
far  as  it  went,  of  course,  but  it  was  not  pottery.  He 
couldn't  boil  his  joint  for  dinner  in  coconut  or  skull ;  he 
had  to  do  it  with  stone  pot-boilers,  iu  a  rude  kettle  of 
puddled  clay. 

But  at  last  one  day,  that  inspired  barbariar ,  the  first 
potter,  hit  by  accident  upon  his  grand  discovery.  He  had 
carried  some  water  in  a  big  calabash — the  hard  shell  of  a 
tropical  fruit  whose  pulpy  centre  can  be  easily  scooped  out 
— and  a  happy  thought  suddenly  struck  him  :  why  not  put 
the  calabash  to  boil  upon  the  fire  w4tli  a  little  clay  smeared 
outside  it  ?  The  savage  is  conservative,  but  he  loves  to  save 
trouble.  He  tried  the  experiment,  and  it  succeeded  admir- 
ably. The  water  boiled,  and  the  calabash  was  not  burnt 
or  broken.  Our  nameless  philosopher  took  the  primitive 
vessel  off  the  fire  with  a  forked  branch  and  looked  at  it 
critically  with  the  delighted  eyes  of  a  first  inventor.  A 
wonderful  change  had  suddenly  come  over  it.  He  had 
blundered  accidentally  upon  the  art  of  pottery.  For  what 
is  this  that  has  happened  to  the  clay  ?  It  went  in  soft, 
brown,  and  muddy  ;  it  has  come  out  hard,  red,  and  stone- 
like.  The  first  potter  ruminated  and  wondered.  He  didn't 
fully  realise,  no  doubt,  what  he  had  actually  done  ;  but  he 
knew  he  had  invented  a  means  by  which  you  could  put  a 
calabash  upon  a  fire  and  keep  it  there  without  burning  or 
bursting.     That,  after  all,  w^as  at  least  something. 

All  this,  you  say  (which,  in  effect,  is  Dr.  Tylor's  view), 


318  IIIE  FIRST  POTTER 

is  purely  liypotliotical.  In  one  sense,  yes  ;  but  not  in 
another.  We  know  that  most  savage  races  still  use  natural 
vessels,  made  of  coconuts,  gourds,  or  calabashes,  for  every- 
day purposes  of  carrying  water  ;  and  we  also  know  that  all 
the  simplest  and  earliest  pottery  is  moulded  on  the  shape  of 
just  such  natural  jars  and  bottles.  The  fact  and  the  theory 
based  on  it  are  no  novelties.  Early  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
indeed,  the  Sieur  Gonneville,  skipper  of  Honfieur,  sailing^ 
round  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  made  his  way  right  across 
the  Southern  Ocean  to  some  vague  point  of  South  America 
where  he  found  the  people  still  just  in  the  intermediate 
stage  between  the  use  of  natural  vessels  and  the  invention 
of  pottery.  For  these  amiable  savages  (name  and  habitat 
unknown)  had  wooden  pots  '  plastered  with  a  kind  of  clay 
a  good  finger  thick,  which  prevents  the  fire  from  burning 
them.'  Here  we  catch  industrial  evolution  in  the  very  act, 
and  the  potter's  art  in  its  first  infancy,  fossilised  and 
crystallised,  as  it  were,  in  an  embryo  condition,  and  fixed 
for  us  immovably  by  the  unprogressive  conservatism  of  a 
savage  tribe.  It  was  this  curious  early  observation  of  evolv- 
ing keramic  art  that  made  Goguet — an  anthropologist  born 
out  of  due  season — first  hit  upon  that  luminous  theory  of 
the  origin  of  pottery  now  all  but  universally  accepted. 

Plenty  of  evidence  to  the  same  effect  is  now  forthcom- 
ing  for  the  modern  inquirer.  Among  the  ancient  monu- 
ments of  the  Mississippi  valley,  Squier  and  Davis  found 
the  kilns  in  which  the  primitive  pottery  had  been  baked ; 
and  among  their  relics  were  partially  burnt  pots  retaining 
in  part  the  rinds  of  the  gourds  or  calabashes  on  which  they 
had  been  actually  modelled.  Along  the  Gulf  of  Mexico 
gourds  were  also  used  to  give  shape  to  the  pot ;  and  all 
over  the  world,  even  to  this  day,  the  gourd  form  is  a  very 
common  one  for  pottery  of  all  sorts,  thus  pointing  back, 
dimly  and  curiously,  to  the  original  mode  in  wliich  fictile 


THE  FIRST  POTTER  319 

ware  generally  came  to  be  invented.  In  Fiji  and  in  many 
parts  of  Africa  vessels  modelled  upon  natural  forms  are 
still  universal.  Of  course  all  such  pots  as  these  are  purely 
hand-made ;  the  invention  of  the  potter's  wheel,  now  so 
indissolubly  associated  in  all  our  minds  with  the  production 
of  earthenware,  belongs  to  an  infinitely  later  and  almost 
modern  period. 

And  that  consideration  naturally  suggests  the  funda- 
mental question,  When  did  the  first  potter  live  ?  The 
world  (as  Sir  Henry  Taylor  has  oracularly  told  us)  knows 
nothing  of  its  greatest  men ;  and  the  very  name  of  the 
father  of  all  potters  has  been  utterly  forgotten  in  the  lapse 
of  ages.  Indeed,  paradoxical  as  it  may  sound  to  say  so,  one 
may  reasonably  doubt  wliether  there  was  ever  actually  any 
one  single  man  on  whom  one  could  definitely  lay  one's 
finger,  and  say  with  confidence,  Here  we  have  the  first 
potter.  Pottery,  no  doubt,  like  most  other  things,  grew  by 
imperceptible  degrees  from  wholly  vague  and  rudimentary 
beginnings.  Just  as  there  were  steam-engines  before  Watt, 
and  locomotives  before  Stephenson,  so  there  were  pots  before 
the  first  potter.  Many  men  must  have  discovered  separately, 
by  half-unconscious  trials,  that  a  coat  of  mud  rudely 
plastered  over  the  bottom  of  a  calabash  prevented  it  from 
catching  fire  and  spilling  its  contents  ;  other  men  slowly 
learned  to  plaster  the  mud  higlier  and  ever  higher  up  the 
sides  ;  and  yet  others  gradually  introduced  and  patented 
new  improvements  for  wholly  encasing  the  entire  cup  in  an 
inch  thickness  of  carefully  kneaded  clay.  I3it  by  bit  the 
invention  grew,  like  all  great  inventions,  without  any  in- 
ventor. Thus  the  question  of  the  date  of  the  first  potter 
practically  resolves  itself  into  the  simpler  question  of  the 
date  of  the  earliest  known  pottery. 

Did  paleolithic  man,  that  antique  naked  crouching 
savage  who  hunted  the  mammoth,  the  reindeer,  and  the 


320  THE  FIRST  POTTER 

cave-bear  among  the  frozen  fields  of  interglacial  Gaul  and 
Britain — did  palicolitliic  man  himself,  in  his  rude  rock- 
shelters,  possess  a  knowledge  of  the  art  of  pottery  ?  That 
is  a  question  which  has  been  much  debated  amongst 
archa?ologists,  and  which  cannot  even  now  be  considered 
as  finally  settled  before  the  tribunal  of  science.  He  must 
have  drunk  out  of  something  or  other,  but  whether  he 
drank  out  of  earthenware  cups  is  still  uncertain.  It  is 
pretty  clear  that  the  earliest  drinking  vessels  used  in  Europe 
were  ncitlier  bowls  of  earthenware  nor  shells  of  fruits,  for 
the  cold  climate  of  interglacial  times  did  not  permit  the 
growth  in  northern  latitudes  of  such  large  natural  vessels 
as  gourds,  calabashes,  bamboos,  or  coco-nuts.  In  all 
probability  the  horns  of  the  aurochs  and  the  wild  cattle, 
and  the  capacious  skull  of  the  fellow-man  whoso  bones  he 
had  just  picked  at  his  ease  for  his  cannibal  supper,  formed 
the  aboriginal  goblets  and  basins  of  the  old  black  European 
savage.  A  curious  verbal  relic  of  the  use  of  horns  as 
drinking-cups  survives  indeed  down  to  almost  modern 
times  in  the  Greek  w^ord  keramic,  still  commonly  applied 
to  the  art  of  pottery,  and  derived,  of  course,  from  Jceras,  a 
horn  ;  while  as  to  skulls,  not  only  were  they  frequently 
used  as  drinking-cups  by  our  Scandinavian  ancestors,  but 
there  still  exists  a  very  singular  intermediate  American 
vessel  in  which  the  clay  has  actually  been  moulded  on  a 
human  skull  as  model,  just  as  other  vessels  have  been 
moulded  on  calabashes  or  other  suitable  vegetable  shapes. 
Still,  the  balance  of  evidence  certainly  seems  to  show 
that  a  little  very  rude  and  almost  shapeless  hand-made 
pottery  has  really  been  discovered  amongst  the  buried 
caves  where  pala3olitliic  men  made  for  ages  their  chief 
dwelling-places.  Fragments  of  earthenware  occurred  in 
the  Hohefels  cave  near  Dim,  in  company  with  the  bones 
of  reindeer,  cave-bears,  and  mammoths,  whose  joints  had 


THE  FIRST  POTTER  321 

doubtless  been  duly  boiled,  a  hundred  thousand  years  ago, 
by  the  intelligent  producer  of  those  identical  sun-dried 
fleshpots  ;  and  M.  Joly,  of  Toulouse,  has  in  his  possession 
portions  of  an  irregularly  circular,  fhit-bottomed  vessel, 
from  the  cave  of  Nabrigas,  on  which  the  finger-marks  of 
the  hand  that  moulded  the  clay  are  still  clearly  dis- 
tinguishable on  the  baked  earthenware.  That  is  the  great 
merit  of  pottery,  viewed  as  an  historical  document ;  it 
retains  its  shape  and  peculiarities  unaltered  through 
countless  centuries,  for  the  future  edification  of  unborn 
antiquaries.  Litcra  scripta  onanct,  and  so  does  baked 
pottery.  The  hand  itself  that  formed  that  rude  bowl  has 
long  since  mouldered  away,  flesh  and  bone  alike,  into  the 
soil  around  it ;  but  the  print  of  its  fingers,  indelibly  fixed 
by  fire  into  the  hardened  clay,  remains  for  us  still  to  tell 
the  story  of  that  early  triumph  of  nascent  keramics. 

The  relics  of  paheolithic  pottery  are,  however,  so  very 
fragmentary,  and  the  circumstances  under  which  they 
have  been  discovered  so  extremely  doubtful,  that  many 
cautious  and  sceptical  antiquarians  will  even  now  have 
nothing  to  say  to  the  suspected  impostors.  Among  the 
remains  of  the  newer  Stone  Age,  on  the  other  hand,  com- 
paratively abundant  keramic  specimens  have  been  un- 
earthed, without  doubt  or  cavil,  from  the  long  barrows — 
the  burial-places  of  the  early  Mongoloid  race,  now  re- 
presented by  the  Finns  and  Lapps,  which  occupied  the 
whole  of  Western  Europe  before  the  advent  of  the  Aryan 
vanguard.  One  of  the  best  bits  is  a  curious  wide-mouthed, 
semi -globular  bowl  from  Norton  Bavant,  in  Wiltshire, 
whose  singular  shape  suggests  almost  immediately  the 
idea  that  it  must  at  least  have  been  based,  if  not  actually 
modelled,  upon  a  human  skull.  Its  rim  is  rough  and  quite 
irregular,  and  there  is  no  trace  of  ornamentation  of  any 
sort ;  a  fact  quite  in  accordance  with  all  the  other  facts  we 


322  THE  FIRST  POTTER 

know  about  the  men  of  the  newer  Stone  Ago,  who  were 
far  less  artistic  and  testhetic  in  every  way  than  their  ruder 
predecessors  of  the  interghicial  epoch. 

Ornamentation,  when  it  does  begin  to  appear,  arises  at 
first  in  a  strictly  practical  and  unintentional  manner. 
Later  examples  elsewhere  show  us  by  analogy  how  it  first 
came  into  existence.  The  Indians  of  the  Ohio  seem  to 
have  modelled  their  pottery  in  bags  or  nettings  made  of 
coarse  thread  or  twinted  bark.  Those  of  the  Mississippi 
moulded  them  in  baskets  of  willow  or  splints.  When  the 
moist  clay  thus  shaped  and  marked  by  the  indentations  of 
the  mould  was  baked  in  the  kiln,  it  of  course  retained  the 
pretty  dappling  it  received  from  the  interlaced  and  Avoven 
thrums,  which  were  burnt  off  in  the  process  of  firing. 
Thus  a  rude  sort  of  natural  diaper  ornament  was  set  up, 
to  which  the  eye  soon  became  accustomed,  and  which  it 
learned  to  regard  as  necessary  for  beauty.  Hence,  wherever 
newer  and  more  improved  methods  of  modelling  came  into 
use,  there  would  arise  an  instinctive  tendency  on  the  part 
of  the  early  potter  to  imitate  the  familiar  marking  by  arti- 
ficial means.  Dr.  Klemm  long  ago  pointed  out  that  the 
oldest  German  fictile  vases  have  an  ornamentation  in  which 
plaiting  is  imitated  by  incised  lines.  '  What  was  no  longer 
wanted  as  a  necessity,'  he  says,  'was  kept  up  as  an  orna- 
ment alone.' 

Another  very  simple  form  of  ornamentation,  reappearing 
everywhere  all  the  world  over  on  primitive  bowls  and  vases, 
is  the  rope  pattern,  a  line  or  string-course  over  the  whole 
surface  or  near  the  mouth  of  the  vessel.  Many  of  the 
indented  patterns  on  early  British  pottery  have  been  pro- 
duced, as  Sir  Daniel  Wilson  has  pointed  out,  by  the  close 
impress  of  twisted  cord  on  the  wet  clay.  Sometimes  these 
cords  seem  to  have  been  originally  left  on  the  clay  in  the 
process  of  baking,  and  used  as  a  mould ;  at  other  times 


THE  FIRST  POTTKIl  323 

they  may  have  been  employed  afterwards  as  handles,  as  is 
still  done  in  the  case  of  some  South  African  pots :  and, 
when  the  rope  handle  wore  off,  the  pattern  made  by  its 
indentation  on  the  plastic  material  before  sun-baking 
would  still  remain  as  pure  ornament.  Probably  the  very 
common  idea  of  string-course  ornamentation  just  below 
the  mouth  or  top  of  vases  and  bowls  has  its  origin  in  this 
early  and  almost  universal  practice. 

AVhen  other  conscious  and  intentional  ornamentation 
began  to  supersede  these  rude  natural  and  undesigned 
patterns,  they  were  at  first  mere  rough  attempts  on  the 
part  of  the  early  potter  to  imitate,  with  the  simple  means 
at  his  disposal,  the  characteristic  marks  of  the  ropes  or 
wickerwork  by  which  the  older  vessels  were  necessarily 
surrounded.  He  had  gradually  learned,  as  Mr.  Tylor  well 
puts  it,  that  clay  alone  or  with  some  mixture  of  sand  is 
capable  of  being  used  without  any  extraneous  support  for 
the  manufacture  of  drinking  and  cooking  vessels.  lie 
therefore  began  to  model  rudely  thin  globular  bowls  with 
his  own  hands,  dispensing  with  the  aid  of  thongs  or 
basketwork.  But  he  still  naturally  continued  to  imitate 
the  original  shapes — the  gourd,  the  calabash,  the  plaited 
net,  the  round  basket ;  and  his  eye  required  the  familiar 
decoration  which  naturally  resulted  fi'om  the  use  of  some 
one  or  other  among  these  primitive  methods.  So  he  tried 
his  hand  at  deliberate  ornament  in  his  own  simple  un- 
tutored fashion. 

It  was  quite  literally  his  hand,  indeed,  that  he  tried  at 
first ;  for  the  earliest  decoration  upon  palaeolithic  pottery 
is  made  by  pressing  the  fingers  into  the  clay  so  as  to  pro- 
duce a  couple  of  deep  parallel  furrows,  which  is  the  sole 
attempt  at  ornament  on  M.  Joly's  Nabrigas  specimen  ; 
while  the  urns  and  drinking-cups  taken  from  our  English 
long  barrows  are  adorned  with  really  pretty  and  effective 


324  THE  FIRST  POTTER 

patterns,  produced  by  pressing  tlie  tip  of  the  finj^er  and  the 
jiail  into  tlio  plastic  material.  It  is  wonderful  what  capital 
and  varied  results  you  can  get  witli  no  more  recondite 
graver  than  the  human  finger-nail,  sometimes  turned  front 
downward,  sometimes  back  downward,  and  sometimes 
used  to  eff^  up  the  moist  clay  into  small  jagged  and  re- 
lieved designs.  Most  of  these  patterns  are  more  or  less 
plaitlike  in  arrangement,  evidently  suggested  to  the  mind 
of  the  potter  by  the  primitive  marks  of  the  old  basketwork. 
But,  as  time  went  on,  the  early  artist  learned  to  press  into 
his  service  new  implements,  pieces  of  wood,  bone  scrapers, 
and  the  flint  knife  itself,  with  which  he  incised  more 
regular  patterns,  straight  or  zigzag  lines,  rows  of  dots, 
squares  and  triangles,  concentric  circles,  and  even  the 
mystic  cross  and  swastika,  the  sacred  symbols  of  yet  unborn 
and  undreamt-of  religions.  As  yet,  there  was  no  direct 
imitation  of  plant  or  animal  forms  ;  once  only,  on  a  single 
specimen  from  a  Swiss  lake  dwelling,  are  the  stem  and 
veins  of  a  leaf  dimly  figured  on  the  handiwork  of  the  Euro- 
pean prehistoric  potter.  Ornament  in  its  pure  form,  as  pat- 
tern merely,  had  begun  to  exist ;  imitative  work  as  such  was 
yet  unknown,  or  almost  unknown,  to  the  eastern  hemisphere. 
In  America,  it  was  quite  otherwise.  The  forgotten 
people  who  built  the  mounds  of  Ohio  and  the  great  tumuli 
of  the  Mississippi  valley  decorated  their  pottery  not  only 
with  animal  figures,  such  as  snakes,  fish,  frogs,  and 
turtles,  but  also  with  human  heads  and  faces,  many  of 
them  evidently  modelled  from  the  life,  and  some  of  them 
quite  unmistakably  genuine  portraits.  On  one  such  vase, 
found  in  Arkansas,  and  figured  by  the  Marquis  de  Na- 
daillac  in  his  excellent  work  on  Prehistoric  America,  the 
ornamentation  consists  (in  true  Red  Indian  taste)  of 
skeleton  hands,  interspersed  with  crossbones ;  and  the 
delicacy  and  anatomical  correctness  of  the  detail  inevitably 


THE  FIRST  POTTER  32,5 

Bnp^f^est  the  idea  that  the  uiiknown  artist  must  have  worked 
with  the  actual  hand  of  his  shauglitered  enemy  lying  for 
a  model  on  tlie  tahlo  boforo  him.  Much  of  the  early 
American  pottery  is  also  coloured  as  well  as  figured,  and 
that  with  considerable  real  taste ;  the  pigments  were 
applied,  however,  after  tlie  baking,  and  so  possess  little 
stability  or  permanence  of  character.  But  pots  and  vases 
of  these  advanced  styles  have  got  so  far  ahead  of  the  first 
potter  that  we  have  really  little  or  no  business  with  them 
in  this  paper. 

Prehistoric  European  pottery  has  never  a  spout,  but 
it  often  indulges  in  some  simple  form  of  ear  or  handle. 
The  very  ancient  liritish  bowl  from  Bavant  Long  Barrow 
— produced  by  tliat  old  squat  Finnliko  race  which  preceded 
the  *  Ancient  Britons  '  of  our  old-fashioned  school-books- 
has  two  ear-shaped  handles  projecting  just  below  the  rim, 
exactly  as  in  tlie  modern  form  of  vessel  known  as  a  crock, 
and  still  familiarly  used  for  household  purposes.  This  long 
survival  of  a  common  domestic  shape  from  the  most  remote 
prehistoric  antiquity  to  our  own  time  is  very  significant 
and  very  interesting.  ]\[any  of  the  old  British  pots  have 
also  a  hole  or  two  holes  pierced  through  them,  near  the 
top,  evidently  for  the  purpose  of  putting  in  a  string  or  rope 
by  way  of  a  handle.  With  the  round  barrows,  which 
belong  to  the  Bronze  Age,  and  contain  the  remains  of  a 
later  and  more  civilised  Celtic  population,  we  get  far  more 
advanced  forms  of  pottery.  Burial  here  is  preceded  by 
cremation,  and  the  ashes  are  enclosed  in  urns,  many  of 
which  are  very  beautiful  in  form  and  exquisitely  de- 
corated. Cremation,  as  Professor  Rolleston  used  feelingly 
to  plead,  is  bad  for  the  comparative  anatomist  and  etlino 
grapher,  but  it  is  passing  well  for  the  collector  of  pottery 
Where  burning  exists  as  a  common  practice,  there  urng 
are  frequent,  and  pottery  an  art  in  great  request.     Drink- 


326  Tllli  FIRST  rOTTKR 

ing-cups  and  perforated  incense  burners  accompany  the 
dead  in  the  round  barrows  ;  but  the  use  of  the  potter's 
wheel  is  still  unknown,  and  all  the  urns  and  vases  belong- 
ing to  this  age  are  still  hand-moulded. 

It  is  a  curious  reflection,  however,  tliat  in  spite  of  all 
the  later  improvements  in  the  fictile  art — in  spite  of  wheels 
and  moulds,  pastes  and  glazes,  stamps  and  pigments,  and 
all  the  rest  of  it — the  most  primitive  methods  of  the  first 
potter  are  still  in  use  in  many  countries,  side  by  side  with 
the  most  finished  products  of  modern  European  sliill  and 
industry.  I  liave  in  my  own  possession  some  West  Indian 
calabashes,  cut  and  decorated  under  my  own  eye  by  a 
Jamaican  negro  for  his  personal  use,  and  bought  from  him 
by  me  for  the  smallest  coin  tliere  current — calabashes 
carved  round  the  edge  through  the  rind  with  a  rude 
string-course,  exactly  like  the  common  rope  pattern  of 
prehistoric  pottery.  I  have  seen  the  same  Jamaican 
negroes  kneading  their  hand-made  porous  earthenware 
beside  a  tropical  stream,  moulding  it  on  fruits  or  shaping 
it  hiside  with  a  free  sweep  of  the  curved  liand,  and  drying 
it  for  use  in  the  hot  sun,  or  baking  it  in  a  hastily-formed 
kiln  of  plastered  mud  into  large  coarse  jars  of  prehistoric 
types,  locally  known  by  the  quaint  West  African  name  of 
*  yabbas.'  Many  of  these  yabbas,  if  buried  in  the  ground 
and  exposed  to  damp  and  frost,  till  they  almost  lost  the 
effects  of  the  baking,  would  be  quite  indistinguishable, 
even  by  the  skilled  archaeologist,  from  the  actual  handi- 
craft of  the  paleolithic  potter.  The  West  Indian  negroes 
brought  these  simple  arts  with  them  from  their  African 
home,  where  they  have  been  handed  down  in  unbroken 
continuity  from  the  very  earliest  age  of  fictile  industry. 
New  and  better  methods  have  slowly  grown  up  everywhere 
around  them,  but  these  simplest,  earliest,  and  easiest  plans 
have  survived  none  l;he  less  for  the  most  ordinary  domestic 


THE  riRST  POTTER  327 

uses,  and  will  survivo  for  npfos  yet,  as  lonj>  as  there 
remain  any  out-of-the-way  places,  remote  from  the  main 
streams  of  civilised  commerce.  Thus,  while  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  years,  in  all  prolnihility,  separate  us  now 
from  the  anc-iont  days  of  the  first  potter,  it  is  yet  possible 
for  us  to  see  the  iirst  potter's  own  methods  and  priuciples 
exemplified  under  our  very  eyes  by  people  who  derive 
them  in  unbroken  succession  from  tho  direct  teaching  of 
that  long- forgotten  prehistoric  savage. 


328  THE  RECIPE  FOR  GENIUS 


THE  EECIPE  FOR   GENIUS 

Let  us  start  fair  by  frankly  admitting  that  the  genius,  like 
the  poet,  is  born  and  not  made.     If  you  wish  to  apply  the 
recipe  for  producing  him,  it  is  unfortunately  necessary  to 
set   out   by   selecting   beforehand  his    grandfathers    and 
grandmothers,  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation  of  those 
that  precede  him.     Nevertheless,  there  is  a  recipe  for  the 
production  of  genius,  and  every  actual  concrete  genius  who 
ever  yet  adorned  or  disgraced  this  oblate  spheroid  of  ours 
has  been  produced,  I  believe,  in  strict  accordance  with  its 
unv/ritten  rules  and  unknown  regulations.    In  other  words, 
geniuses    don't    crop    up    irregularly    anywhere,    'quite 
promiscuous  like '  ;  they  have  their  fixed  laws  and  their 
adequate  causes  :  they  are  the  result  and  effect  of  certain 
fairly  demonstrable  concatenations  of  circumstance  :  they 
are,  in  short,  a  natural  product,  not  a  lusus  naturce.    You 
get  them  only  under  sundry  relatively  definite  and  settled 
conditions  ;  and  though  it  isn't  (unfortunately)  quite  true 
that  the  conditions  will  always  infallibly  bring  forth  the 
genius,  it  is  quite  true  that  the  genius  can  never  be  brought 
forth  at  all  without  the  conditions.    Do  men  gather  grapes 
of  thorns,  or  figs  of  tliistles  ?     No  more  can  you  get  a  poet 
from  a  family  of  stockbrokers  who  have  intermarried  with 
the  daughters  of  an  eminent  alderman,  or  make  a  philo- 
sopher out  of  a  country  grocer's  eldest  son  whose  amiable 
mother  had  no  soul  above   the  half-pounds  of  tea  and 
sugar. 


THE  RECIPE  FOR  GENIUS  329 

In  the  first  place,  by  way  of  clearing  the  decks  for 
action,  I  am  going  to  start  even  by  getting  rid  once  for  all 
(so  far  as  we  are  here  concerned)  of  that  famous  but  mis- 
leading old  distinction  between  genius  and  talent.  It  is 
really  a  distinction  without  a  difterence.  I  suppose  there 
is  probably  no  subject  under  heaven  on  which  so  much 
high-flown  stuff  and  nonsense  has  been  talked  and  written 
as  upon  this  well-known  and  much-debated  hair-splitting 
discrimination.  It  is  just  like  that  other  great  distinction 
between  fancy  and  imagination,  about  which  poets  and 
essayists  discoursed  so  fluently  at  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century,  until  at  last  one  fine  day  the  world  at 
large  woke  up  suddenly  to  the  unpleasant  consciousness 
that  it  had  been  wasting  its  time  over  a  non-existent 
difference,  and  that  fancy  and  imagination  were  after  all 
absolutely  identical.  Now,  I  won't  dogmatically  assert 
that  talent  and  genius  are  exactly  one  and  the  same  thing ; 
but  I  do  assert  that  genius  is  simply  talent  raised  to  a 
slightly  higher  power  ;  it  differs  from  it  not  in  kind  but 
merely  in  degree :  it  is  talent  at  its  best.  There  is  no 
drawing  a  hard-and-fast  line  of  demarcation  between  the 
two.  You  might  just  as  well  try  to  classify  all  mankind 
into  tall  men  and  short  men,  and  then  endeavour  to  prove 
that  a  real  distinction  existed  in  nature  between  your  two 
artificial  classes.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  men  differ  in  height 
and  in  ability  by  infinitesimal  gradations  :  some  men  are 
very  short,  others  rather  short,  others  medium-sized, 
others  tall,  and  yet  others  again  of  portentous  stature  like 
Mr.  Chang  and  Jacob  Omnium.  iSo,  too,  some  men  are 
idiots,  some  are  next  door  to  a  fool,  some  are  stupid,  some 
are  worthy  people,  some  are  intelligent,  some  are  clever, 
and  some  geniuses.  But  genius  is  only  the  culminatnig 
point  of  ordinary  cleverness,  and  if  you  were  to  try  and 
draw  up  a  list  of  all  the  real  geniuses  in  the  last  hundred 


330  THE  RECIPE  FOR  GENIUS 

years,  no  two  people  could  ever  be  found  to  agree  among 
themselves  as  to  which  should  be  included  and  which 
excluded  from  the  artificial  catalogue.  I  have  heard 
Kingsley  and  Charles  Lamb  described  as  geniuses,  and  I 
have  heard  them  both  absolutely  denied  every  sort  of 
literary  merit.  Carlyle  thought  Darwin  a  poor  creature, 
and  Comte  regarded  Hegel  himself  as  an  empty  wind- 
bag. 

The  fact  is,  most  of  the  grandiose  talk  about  the  vast 
gulf  which  separates  genius  from  mere  talent  has  been 
published  and  set  abroad  by  those  fortunate  persons  who 
fell,  or  fancied  themselves  to  fall,  under  the  former  highly 
satisfactory  and  agreeable  category.  Genius,  in  short,  real 
or  self-suspected,  has  always  been  at  great  pains  to  glorify 
itself  at  the  expense  of  poor,  common-place,  inferior  talent. 
There  is  a  certain  type  of  great  man  in  particular  winch  is 
never  tired  of  dilating  upon  the  noble  supremacy  of  its  own 
greatness  over  the  spurious  imitation.  It  otters  incense 
obliquely  to  itself  in  offering  it  generically  to  the  class 
genius.  It  brings  ghee  to  its  own  image.  There  are  great 
men,  for  example,  such  as  Lord  Lytton,  Disraeli,  Victor 
Hugo,  the  Lion  Comique,  and  Mr.  Oscar  Wilde,  who  pose 
perpetually  as  great  men  ;  they  cry  aloud  to  the  poor  silly 
public  so  far  beneath  them,  '  I  am  a  genius  !  Admire  me  ! 
Worship  me  ! '  Against  this  Byronic  self-elevation  on  an 
aerial  pedestal,  high  above  the  heads  of  the  blind  and 
battling  multitude,  we  poor  common  mortals,  who  are  not 
unfortunately  geniines,  are  surely  entitled  to  enter  occasion- 
ally our  humble  protest.  Our  contention  is  that  the  genius 
only  differs  from  the  man  of  ability  as  the  man  of  ability 
differs  from  the  intelligent  man,  and  the  intelligent  man 
from  the  worthy  person  of  sound  common  sense.  The 
sliding  scale  of  brains  has  infinite  gradations ;  and  the 
gradations  merge  insensibly  into  one  another.    There  is  no 


THE  RECIPE  FOR  GENIUS  331 

gulf,  no  gap,  no  sudden  jump  of  nature  ;  here  as  else- 
where, throughout  the  whole  range  of  her  manifold  pro- 
ductions, our  common  mother  saltiim  non  facit. 

The  question  before  the  house,  then,  narrows  itself 
down  finally  to  this  ;  what  are  the  conditions  under  which 
exceptional  ability  or  high  talent  is  hkely  to  arise  ? 

Now,  I  suppose  everybody  is  ready  to  admit  that 
two  complete  born  fools  are  not  at  all  likely  to  become  the 
proud  father  and  happy  mother  of  a  Shakespeare  or  a 
Newton.  I  suppose  everybody  will  unhesitatingly  allow 
that  a  great  mathematician  could  hardly  by  any  conceivable 
chance  arise  among  the  South  African  Bushmen,  who  can- 
not understand  the  -arduous  arithmetical  proposition  tliat 
two  and  two  make  four.  No  amount  of  education  or 
careful  training,  I  take  it,  would  suffice  to  elevate  the  most 
profoundly  artistic  among  the  Veddahs  of  Ceylon,  who 
cannot  even  comprehend  an  English  drawing  of  a  dog  or 
horse,  into  a  respectable  president  of  the  lioyal  Academy. 
It  is  equally  unlikely  (as  it  seems  to  me)  that  a  Mendelssohn 
or  a  Beethoven  could  be  raised  in  the  bosom  of  a  famih'  all 
of  whose  members  on  either  side  were  incapable  (like  a 
distinguished  modern  English  poet)  of  discriminating  any 
one  note  in  an  octave  from  any  other.  Such  leaps  as  these 
would  be  little  short  of  pure  miracles.  They  would  be 
equivalent  tc  the  sudden  creation,  without  antecedent 
cause,  of  a  whole  vast  system  of  nerves  and  nerve-centres 
in  the  prodigious  brain  of  some  infant  phenomenon. 

On  the  other  hand,  much  of  the  commonplace,  shallow 
fashionable  talk  about  hereditary  genius — I  don't  mean,  of 
course,  the  talk  of  our  Darwins  and  Galtons,  but  the  cheap 
drawing-room  philosophy  of  easy  sciolists  who  can't  under- 
stand them — is  itself  fully  as  absurd  in  its  own  way  as  the 
idea  that  something  can  come  out  of  nothing.  For  it  is 
no  explanation  of  the  existence  of  genius  to  say  that  it  is 
22 


332  THE  RECIPE  FOR  GENIUS 

hereditary.  You  only  put  the  difiiculty  one  place  back. 
Granting  that  young  Alastor  Jones  is  a  budding  poet 
because  his  father,  Percy  Bysslie  Jones,  was  a  poet  before 
him,  why,  pray,  was  Jones  the  elder  a  poet  at  all,  to  start 
with  ?  This  kind  of  explanation,  in  fact,  explains  nothing  ; 
it  begins  by  positing  the  existence  of  one  original  genius, 
absolutely  unaccounted  for,  and  then  proceeds  blandly  to 
point  out  that  the  other  geniuses  derive  their  character- 
istics from  him,  by  virtue  of  descent,  just  as  all  the  sons 
of  a  peer  are  born  honourablcs.  The  elephant  supports 
the  earth,  and  the  tortoise  supports  the  elephant,  but 
who,  pray,  supports  the  tortoise  ?  If  the  first  chicken 
came  out  of  an  egg,  what  was  the  origin  of  the  hen  that 
laid  it  ? 

Besides,  the  allegation  as  it  stands  is  not  even  a  true 
one.  Genius,  as  we  actually  know  it,  is  by  no  means 
hereditary.  The  great  man  is  not  necessarily  the  son  of  a 
great  man  or  the  father  of  a  great  man  :  often  enough,  he 
stands  quite  isolated,  a  solitary  golden  link  in  a  chain  of 
baser  metal  on  either  side  of  him.  Mr.  John  Shakespeare 
woolstapler,  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  Warwickshire,  was  no 
doubt  an  eminently  respectable  person  in  his  own  trade, 
and  he  had  sufficient  intelligence  to  be  mayor  of  his  native 
town  once  upon  a  time :  but,  so  far  as  is  known,  none  of 
his  literary  remains  are  at  all  equal  to  Macbeth  or  Othello. 
Pars jn  Newton,  of  the  Parish  of  Woolsthorpe,  in  Lincoln- 
shire, may  have  preached  a  great  many  very  excellent  and 
convincing  discourses  ,  but  there  is  no  evidence  of  any  sort 
that  he  ever  attempted  to  write  the  Principia.  Per  contra 
the  Miss  Miltons,  good  young  ladies  that  they  were  (though 
of  conflicting  memory),  do  not  appear  to  have  differed  con- 
spicuously in  ability  from  the  other  Priscillas  and  Patiences 
and  Mercies  amongst  whom  their  lot  was  cast  ;  while  the 
Marlboroughs  and  the  Wellingtons  do  not  seem  to  bud  out 


THE  RECIPE  FOR  GENIUS  333 

Spontaneously  into  ^reat  commanders  in  the  second  genera- 
tion. True,  there  are  numerous  cases  such  as  that  of  the 
Hcrschels,  father  and  son,  or  the  two  Scahgers,  or  the 
Caracci,  or  the  Pitts,  or  the  Scipios,  and  a  dozen  more, 
where  the  genius,  once  developed,  has  persisted  for  two 
or  three,  or  even  four  lives  :  but  these  instances  really  cast 
no  light  at  all  upon  our  central  problem,  which  is  just  this 
— How  does  tlie  genius  come  in  the  first  place  to  be  de- 
veloped at  all  from  parents  in  whom  individually  no  par- 
ticular genius  is  ultimately  to  be  seen  ? 

Suppose  we  take,  to  start  with,  a  race  of  hunting  savages 
in  the  earliest,  lowest,  and  most  undifferentiated  stage,  we 
shall  get  really  next  to  no  personal  peculiarities  or  idio- 
syncrasies of  any  sort  amongst  them.  Every  one  of  them 
will  be  a  good  hunter,  a  good  fisherman,  a  good  scalper  and 
a  good  manufacturer  of  bows  and  arrows.  Division  of 
labour,  and  the  other  troublesome  technicalities  of  our 
modern  political  economy,  are  as  unknown  among  such 
folk  as  the  modern  nuisance  of  dressing  for  dinner.  Each 
man  performs  all  the  functions  of  a  citizen  on  his  own 
account,  because  there  is  nobody  else  to  perform  them  for 
him — the  medium  of  exchange  known  as  hard  cash  has 
not,  so  far  as  he  is  concerned,  yet  been  invented  ;  and  he 
performs  them  well,  such  as  they  are,  because  he  inherits 
from  all  his  ancestors  aptitudes  of  brain  and  muscle  in 
these  directions,  owing  to  the  simple  fact  that  those  among 
his  collateral  predecessors  who  didn't  know  how  to  snare  a 
bird,  or  were  hopelessly  stupid  in  the  art  of  chipping  flint 
arrowheads,  died  out  of  starvation,  leaving  no  representa- 
tives. The  beneficent  institution  of  the  poor  law  does  not 
exist  among  savages,  in  order  to  enable  the  lielpless  and 
incompetent  to  bring  up  families  in  their  own  image. 
There,  survival  of  the  fittest  still  works  out  its  own  ulti- 
mately benevolent  and  useful  end  in  its  own  directly  cruel 


334  THE  RECirE  FOR  GENIUS 

and  relentless  way,  cutting  off  ruthlessly  the  stupid  or  the 
weak,  and  allowing  only  the  strong  and  the  cunning  to 
become  the  parents  of  future  generations. 

Hence  every  young  savage,  being  descended  on  both 
sides  from  ancestors  who  in  their  own  way  perfectly  fulfilled 
the  ideal  of  complete  savagery — were  good  hunters,  good 
fishers,  good  fighters,  good  craftsmen  of  bow  or  boomerang 
— inherits  from  these  his  successful  predecessors  all  those 
qualities  of  eye  and  hand  and  brain  and  nervous  system 
which  go  to  make  up  the  abstractly  Admirable  Crichton  of 
a  savage.  The  qualities  in  question  are  ensured  in  him  by 
two  separate  means.  In  the  first  place,  survival  of  the 
fittest  takes  care  that  he  and  all  his  ancestors  shall  have 
duly  possessed  them  to  some  extent  to  start  with  ;  in  the 
second  place,  constant  practice  from  boyhood  upward 
increases  and  develops  the  original  faculty.  Thus  savages, 
as  a  rule,  display  absolutely  astonishing  ability  and  clever- 
ness in  the  few  lines  which  they  have  made  their  own. 
Their  cunning  in  hunting,  their  patience  in  fishing,  their 
skill  in  trapping,  their  infinite  dodges  for  deceiving  and 
cajoling  the  animals  or  enemies  that  they  need  to  outwit, 
have  moved  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  innumerable 
travellers.  The  savage,  in  fact,  is  not  stupid  :  in  his  own 
way  his  cleverness  is  extraordinary.  But  the  way  is  a  very 
narrow  and  restricted  one,  and  all  savages  of  the  same  race 
walk  in  it  exactly  alike.  Cunning  they  have,  skill  they 
have,  instinct  they  have,  to  a  most  marvellous  degree ;  but  of 
spontaneity,  originality,  initiative,  variability,  not  a  single 
spark.  Know  one  savage  of  a  tribe  and  you  know  them  all. 
Their  cleverness  is  not  the  cleverness  of  the  individual 
man :  it  is  the  inherited  and  garnered  intelligence  or  instinct 
of  the  entire  race. 

How,  then,  do  originality,  diversity,  individuality, 
genius,  begin  to  come  in  ?     In  this  way,  as  it  seems  to 


THE  RECIPE  FOR  GENIUS  335 

me,  looking  at  the  matter  both  a  priori  and  by  the  light 
of  actual  experience. 

Suppose  a  country  inhabited  in  its  interior  by  a  savage 
race  of  hunters  and  fighters,  and  on  its  seaboard  by  an 
equally  savage  race  of  pirates  and  fishermen,  like  the 
Dyaks  of  Borneo.  Each  of  these  races,  if  left  to  itself,  will 
develop  in  time  its  own  peculiar  and  special  type  of  savage 
cleverness.  Each  (in  the  scientific  slang  of  the  day)  will 
adapt  itself  to  its  particular  environment.  The  people 
of  the  interior  will  acquire  and  inherit  a  wonderful  facility 
in  spearing  monkeys  and  knocking  down  parrots  ;  while 
the  people  of  the  sea-coast  will  become  skilful  managers  of 
canoes  upon  the  water,  and  merciless  plunderers  of  one 
another's  villages,  after  the  universal  fashion  of  all  pirates. 
These  original  differences  of  position  and  function  will 
necessarily  entail  a  thousand  minor  differences  of  intelli- 
gence and  skill  in  a  thousand  different  ways.  Eor  example, 
the  sea-coast  people,  having  of  pure  need  to  make  them- 
selves canoes  and  paddles,  will  probably  learn  to  decorate 
their  handicraft  with  ornamental  patterns ;  and  the 
SDsthetic  taste  thus  aroused  will,  no  doubt,  finally  lead 
them  to  adorn  the  facades  of  their  wooden  huts  with  the 
grinning  skulls  of  slaughtered  enemies,  prettily  disposed  at 
measured  distances.  A  thoughtless  world  may  laugh, 
indeed,  at  these  naive  expressions  of  the  nascent  artistic 
and  decorative  faculties  in  the  savage  breast,  but  the 
aesthetic  philosopher  knows  how  to  appreciate  them  at 
their  true  worth,  and  to  see  in  them  the  earliest  ingenuous 
precursors  of  our  own  Salisbury,  Lichfield,  and  West- 
minster. 

Now,  so  long  as  these  two  imaginary  races  of  ours 
continue  to  remain  distinct  and  separate,  it  is  not  likely 
that  idiosyncrasies  or  varieties  to  any  great  extent  will 
arise  among  them.     But,  as  soon   as  you  permit  inter- 


336  THE  RECIPE  FOR  GENIUS 

marriage  to  take  place,  the  inherited  and  developed 
qualities  of  the  one  race  will  be  liable  to  crop  up  in  the 
next  generation,  diversely  intermixed  in  every  variety  of 
degree  with  the  inherited  and  developed  qualities  of  the 
other.  The  children  may  take  after  either  parent  in  any 
combination  of  qualities  whatsoever.  You  have  admitted 
an  apparently  capricious  element  of  individuality  :  a  power 
on  the  part  of  the  half-breeds  of  differing  from  one  another 
to  an  extent  quite  impossible  in  the  two  original  homo- 
geneous societies.  In  one  word,  you  have  made  possible 
tlie  future  existence  of  diversity  in  character. 

If,  now,  we  turn  from  these  perfectly  simple  savage 
communities  to  our  own  very  complex  and  heterogeneous 
world,  what  do  we  find  ?  An  endless  variety  of  soldiers, 
sailors,  tinkers,  tailors,  butchers,  bakers,  candlestick 
makers,  and  jolly  undertakers,  most  of  whom  fall  into  a 
certain  rough  number  of  classes,  each  with  its  own  deve- 
loped and  inherited  traits  and  peculiarities.  Our  world  ia 
made  up,  like  the  world  of  ancient  Egypt  and  of  modern 
India,  of  an  immense  variety  of  separate  castes — not, 
'indeed,  rigidly  demarcated  and  strictly  limited  as  in  those 
extremely  hierarchical  societies,  but  still  very  fairly  here- 
ditary in  character,  and  given  on  the  average  to  a  tolerably 
close  system  of  intermarriage  within  the  caste. 

For  example,  there  is  the  agricultural  labourer  caste — 
the  Hodge  Chawbacon  of  urban  humour,  who  in  his  mili- 
tary avatar  also  reappears  as  Tommy  Atkins,  a  little  trans- 
figured, but  at  bottom  identical — the  alternative  aspect 
of  a  single  undivided  central  reality.  Hodge  for  the 
most  part  lives  and  dies  in  his  ancestral  village  :  marries 
Mary,  the  daughter  of  Hodge  Secundus  of  that  parish,  and 
begets  assorted  Hodges  and  Marys  in  vast  quantities,  all 
of  the  same  pattern,  to  replenish  the  earth  in  the  next 
generation.     There  you  have  a  very  well-marked  lieredi- 


THE  RECIPE  FOR  GENIUS  337 

tary  caste,  little  given  to  intermixture  with  others,  and 
from  whose  members,  however  recruited  by  fresh  blood, 
the  object  of  our  quest,  the  Divine  Genius,  is  very  un- 
likely to  find  his  point  of  ori,Q;in.  Then  there  is  the  town 
artisan  caste,  sprung  originally,  indeed,  from  the  ranks  of 
the  Ilodges,  but  naturally  selected  out  of  its  most  active, 
enterprising,  and  intelligent  individuals,  and  often  of  many 
generations  standing  in  various  forms  of  handicraft.  This 
is  a  far  higher  and  more  promising  type  of  humanity,  from 
the  judicious  intermixture  of  whose  best  elements  we  are 
apt  to  get  our  Stephensons,  our  Arkwrights,  our  Telfords, 
and  our  Edisons.  In  a  rank  of  life  just  above  the  last,  wo 
find  the  fixed  and  immobile  farmer  caste,  which  only 
rarely  blossoms  out,  under  favourable  circumstances  on 
both  sides,  into  a  stray  Cobbett  or  an  almost  miraculous 
miller  Constable.  The  shopkeepers  are  a  tribe  of  more 
varied  interests  and  more  diversified  lives.  An  immense 
variety  of  brain  elements  are  called  into  play  by  their  di- 
verse functions  in  diverse  lines ;  and  when  wo  take  them 
in  conjunction  with  the  upper  mercantile  grades,  which  are 
chiefly  composed  of  their  ablest  and  most  successful  mem- 
bers, we  get  considerable  chances  of  those  happy  blendings  of 
individual  excellences  in  their  casual  marriages  which  go  to 
make  up  talent,  and,  in  their  final  outcome,  genius.  Last  of 
all,  in  the  professional  and  upper  classes  there  is  a  freedom 
and  play  of  faculty  everywhere  going  on,  which  in  the 
chances  of  intermarriage  between  lawyer-folk  and  doctor- 
folk,  scientific  people  and  artistic  people,  county  families 
and  bishops  or  law  lords,  and  so  forth  ad  infinitum,  offers 
by  far  the  best  opportunities  of  any  for  the  occasional  de- 
velopment of  that  rare  product  of  the  highest  humanity, 
the  genuine  genius. 

But  in  every  case  it  is,  I  believe,  essentially  intermix- 
ture of  variously  acquired  hereditary  characteristics  that 


338  THE  IIKCIVE   FOIi  GENIUS 

malics  the  best  and  truest  pfoniuscs.  Left  to  itself,  each 
separate  lino  of  casto  ancestry  would  tend  to  produce  a  ' 
certain  fixed  Chinese  or  Japanese  perfection  of  handicraft 
in  a  certain  definite,  restricted  direction,  but  not  probably 
nnythin.G;  worth  calling  real  genius.  For  example,  a  family 
of  artists,  starting  with  some  sort  of  manual  dexterity  in 
imitating  natural  forms  and  colours  with  paint  and  pencil, 
and  strictly  intermarrying  always  with  other  families  pos- 
sessing exactly  the  same  inherited  endowments,  would  pro- 
bably go  on  getting  more  and  more  woodenly  accurate  in  its 
drawing  ;  more  and  more  conventionally  correct  in  its 
grouping ;  more  and  more  technically  perfect  in  its  per- 
spective and  light-and-shade,  and  so  forth,  by  pure  dint  of 
accumulated  hereditary  experience  from  generation  to 
generation.  It  would  pass  from  the  Egyptian  to  the 
Chinese  style  of  art  by  slow  degrees  and  with  infinite  gra- 
dations. But  suppose,  instead  of  thus  rigorously  con- 
fining itself  to  its  own  caste,  this  family  of  handicraft 
artists  were  to  intermarry  freely  with  poetical,  or  sea- 
faring, or  candlestick-making  stocks.  What  would  be  the 
consequence  ?  Why,  such  an  infiltration  of  other  heredi- 
tary characteristics,  otherwise  acquired,  as  might  make  the 
young  painters  of  future  generations  more  wide  minded, 
more  diversified,  more  individualistic;  more  vivid  and  life- 
like. Some  divine  spark  of  poetical  imagination,  some 
tenderness  of  sentiment,  some  play  of  fancy,  unknown 
perhaps,  to  the  hard,  dry,  matter-of-fact  limners  of  the 
ancestral  school,  might  thus  be  introduced  into  the  original 
line  of  hereditary  artists.  In  this  way  one  can  easily  see 
bow  even  intermarriage  with  non-artistic  stocks  might  im- 
prove the  breed  of  a  family  of  painters.  For  while  each 
caste,  left  to  itself,  is  liable  to  harden  down  into  a  mere 
technical  excellence  after  its  own  kind,  a  wooden  facility 
for  drawing  faces,  or  casting  up  columns  of  figures,  or 


THE  RECIPE  FOR  GENIUS  339 

Iiac'kinpjdown  enemies,  or  buildinpf  steam-enfj;incs,  a  healthy 
cross  with  other  castes  is  Hablo  to  brinj?  in  all  kinds  of  new 
and  valuable  qualities,  each  of  which,  thoiiurh  acquired  per- 
haps in  a  totally  different  line  of  life,  is  apt  to  bear  a  new 
application  in  the  new  complex  whereof  it  now  forms  a  part. 

In  our  very  varied  modern  societies,  every  man  and 
every  woman,  in  the  upper  and  middle  ranks  of  life  at 
least,  has  an  indiviiluality  and  an  idiosyncrasy  so  com- 
pounded of  endless  varyin}^  stocks  and  races.  Hero  is  one 
whose  lather  was  an  Irishman  and  his  mother  a  Scotch- 
woman ;  liere  is  another  whose  putcrnal  line  were  country 
parsons,  while  his  maternal  ancestors  were  city  merchants 
or  distinguished  soldiers.  Take  almost  anybody's  '  sixteen 
quarters ' — his  great-great  grandfathers  and  great-great 
grandmothers,  of  whom  he  has  sixteen  all  told — ajid  what 
do  you  often  find  ?  A  peer,  a  cobbler,  a  barrister,  a  com- 
mon sailor,  a  Welsh  doctor,  a  Dutch  merchant,  a  Hugue- 
not pastor,  a  cornet  of  horse,  an  Irish  heiress,  a  farmer's 
daughter,  a  housemaid,  an  actress,  a  Devonshire  beauty, 
a  rich  young  lady  of  sugar-broking  extraction,  a  Lady 
Carolina,  a  London  lodging-house  keeper.  This  is  not  by 
any  means  an  exaggerated  case  ;  it  would  be  easy,  indeed, 
from  one's  own  knowledge  of  family  histories  to  supply  a 
great  many  real  examples  far  more  startling  than  this  par- 
tially imaginary  one.  With  such  a  variety  of  racial  and 
professional  antecedents  behind  us,  what  infinite  possi- 
bilities are  opened  before  us  of  children  with  ability,  folly, 
stupidity,  genius  ? 

Infinite  numbers  of  intermixtures  everywhere  exist  in 
civilised  societies.  Most  of  them  are  passable  ;  many  of 
them  are  execrable  ;  a  few  of  them  are  admirable ;  and 
here  and  there,  one  of  them  consists  of  that  happy  blending  of 
individual  characteristics  which  we  all  immediately  recog- 
nise as  genius — at  least  after  somebody  else  has  told  us  so. 


340  THE  RECIPE  FOR  GENIUS 

The  ultimate  recipe  for  genius,  then,  would  appear  to 
bo  somewlnit  after  this  fashion.  Take  a  number  of  good, 
strong,  powerful  stockH,  mentally  or  physically,  endowed 
with  something  more  than  the  average  amount  of  energy 
and  application.  Let  them  be  as  varied  as  possible  in 
characteristics ;  and,  so  far  as  convenient,  try  to  include 
among  tlicm  a  considerable  small-change  of  races,  disposi. 
tions,  professions,  and  temperaments.  Mix,  by  marriage, 
to  the  proper  consistency  ;  educate  the  offspring,  especially 
by  circumstances  and  environment,  as  broadly,  freely,  and 
diversely  as  you  can  ;  let  them  all  intermarry  again  with 
other  similarly  produced,  but  personally  unlike,  idiosyn- 
crasies ;  and  watch  the  result  to  find  your  genius  in  the  fourth 
or  fifth  generation.  If  the  experiment  has  been  pi'oporly 
performed,  and  all  the  conditions  have  been  decently  favour- 
able, you  will  get  among  the  resultant  five  hundred  persons 
a  considerable  sprinkling  of  average  fools,  a  fair  proportion 
of  modest  mediocrities,  a  small  number  of  able  people,  and 
(in  case  you  are  exceptionally  lucky  and  have  shuflled  your 
cards  very  carefully)  perhaps  among  them  all  a  single 
genius.  But  most  probably  the  genius  will  have  died 
young  of  scarlet  fever,  or  missed  fire  througli  some  tiny 
defect  of  internal  brain  structure.  Nature  herself  is  trying 
this  experiment  unaided  every  day  all  around  us,  and,  though 
she  makes  a  great  many  misses,  occasionally  she  makes  a 
stray  hit  and  then  we  get  a  Shakespeare  or  a  Grimaldi. 

'  Bat  you  haven't  proved  all  this  :  you  have  only  sug- 
gested it.'  Does  one  prove  a  thesis  of  deep-reaching 
importance  in  a  ten-page  essay  ?  And  if  one  proved  it  in 
a  big  book,  with  classified  examples  and  detailed  genea- 
logies of  all  the  geniuses,  would  anybody  on  earth  except 
Mr.  Francis  Galton  ever  take  the  trouble  to  read  it? 


DESERT  SANDS  341 


DESERT  SANDS 

If  deserts  have  a  fault  (wliich  their  present  biographer  is  far 
from  admitting),  that  fault  may  doubtless  be  found  in  the 
fact  that  their  scenery  as  a  rule  tends  to  be  just  a  tritlo 
monotonous.  Thoui,'h  Ihie  in  themselves,  they  lack  variety. 
To  be  sure,  very  few  of  the  deserts  of  real  life  possess  that 
absolute  flatness,  sandiness  and  sameness,  which  charac- 
terises the  familiar  desert  of  the  poet  and  of  the  annual 
exhibitions — a  desert  all  level  yellow  expanse,  most  bilious 
in  its  colournig,  and  relieved  by  but  four  allowable  academy 
properties,  a  palm-tree,  a  camel,  a  sphinx,  and  a  pyramid. 
For  foreground,  throw  in  a  sheikh  in  appropriate  drapery ; 
fcr  background,  a  sky-line  and  a  bleaching  skeleton  ;  stir 
and  mix,  and  your  picture  is  finished.  Most  practical 
deserts  one  comes  across  in  travelling,  however,  are  a  great 
deal  less  simple  and  theatrical  than  that ;  rock  prepon- 
derates over  sand  in  their  composition,  and  inequalities  of 
surface  are  often  the  rule  rather  than  the  exception. 
There  is  reason  to  believe,  indeed,  that  the  artistic  con- 
ception of  the  common  or  Burlington  House  desert  has 
been  unduly  influenced  for  evil  by  the  accessibility  and  the 
poetic  adjuncts  of  the  Egyptian  sand- waste,  which,  being 
situated  in  a  great  alluvial  river  valley  is  really  flat,  and 
being  the  most  familiar,  has  therefore  distorted  to  its  own 
shape  the  mental  picture  of  all  its  kind  elsewhere.  But 
most  deserts  of  actual  nature  are  not  all  flat,  nor  all  sandy ; 


342  DESERT  SANDS 

they  present  a  considerable  diversity  and  variety  of  surface, 
and  their  rocks  are  often  unpleasantly  obtrusive  to  the 
tender  feet  of  the  pedestrian  traveller. 

A  desert,  in  fact,  is  only  a  place  where  the  'sveathor  is 
always  and  uniformly  fine.  The  sand  is  there  merely  as 
what  the  logicians  call,  in  their  cheerful  way,  *  a  separable 
accident ' ;  the  essential  of  a  desert,  as  such,  is  the  absence 
of  vegetation,  due  to  drought.  The  barometer  in  those 
happy,  too  happy,  regions,  always  stands  at  Set  Fair.  Ai 
least,  it  would,  if  barometers  commonly  grew  in  the  desert, 
where,  however,  in  the  present  condition  of  science,  they 
are  rarely  found.  It  is  this  dryness  of  the  air,  and  this 
alone,  that  makes  a  desert ;  all  the  rest,  like  the  camels, 
the  sphinx,  the  skcl.jton,  and  the  pyramid,  is  only  thrown 
in  to  complete  the  picture. 

Now  the  first  question  that  occurs  to  the  inquiring 
mind — which  is  but  a  graceful  periphrasis  for  the  present 
writer — when  it  comes  to  examine  in  detail  the  peculiarities 
of  deserts  is  just  this  :  Why  are  there  places  on  the  earth's 
surface  on  which  rain  never  falls  ?  What  makes  it  so 
uncommonly  dry  in  Sahara  when  it's  so  unpleasantly  wet 
and  so  unnecessarily  foggy  in  this  realm  of  England? 
And  the  obvious  answer  is,  of  course,  that  deserts  exist 
only  in  those  parts  of  the  world  where  the  run  of  mountain 
ranges,  prevalent  winds,  and  ocean  currents  conspire  to 
render  the  average  rainfall  as  small  as  possible.  But, 
strangely  enough,  there  is  a  large  irregular  belt  of  the  great 
eastern  continent  where  these  peculiar  conditions  occur  in 
an  almost  unbroken  line  for  thousands  of  miles  together, 
from  the  west  coast  of  Africa  to  the  borders  of  China  :  and 
it  is  in  this  belt  that  all  the  best  known  deserts  of  the 
world  are  actually  situatod.  In  one  place  it  is  the  Atlas 
and  the  Kong  mountains  (now  don't  pretend,  as  David 
Copperlield's  aunt  would  have  said,  you  don't  know  the 


DESEKT  SANDS  343 

Kong  mountains) ;  at  another  place  it  is  the  Arabian  coast 
range,  Lebanon,  and  the  lieluchi  hills  ;  at  a  third,  it  is  the 
Himalayas  and  the  Chinese  heights  that  intercept  and 
precipitate  all  the  moisture  from  the  clouds.  But,  from 
■whatever  variety  of  local  causes  it  may  arise,  the  fact  still 
remains  the  same,  that  all  the  great  deserts  run  in  this 
long,  almost  unbroken  series,  beginning  with  the  greater 
and  the  smaller  Sahara,  continuing  in  the  Libyan  and 
Egyptian  desert,  spreading  on  through  the  larger  part  of 
Arabia,  reappearing  to  the  north  as  the  Syrian  desert,  and 
to  the  east  as  the  desert  of  Rajputana  (the  Groat  Indian 
Desert  of  the  Anglo-Indian  mind),  while  further  east  again 
the  long  line  terminates  in  the  desert  of  Gobi  on  the  Chinese 
frontier. 

In  other  parts  of  the  world,  deserts  are  less  frequent. 
The  peculiar  combination  of  circumstances  which  goes  to 
produce  them  does  not  elsewhere  occur  over  any  vast  area, 
on  so  large  a  scale.  Still,  there  is  one  region  in  western 
America  where  the  necessary  conditions  are  found  to  per- 
fection. The  high  snow-clad  peaks  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains on  the  one  side  check  and  condense  all  the  moisture 
that  comes  from  the  Atlantic  ;  the  Sierra  Nevada  and  the 
Wahsatch  range  on  the  other,  running  parallel  with  them 
to  the  west,  check  and  condense  all  the  moisture  that 
comes  from  the  Pacific  coast.  In  between  these  two  great 
lines  lies  the  dry  and  almost  rainless  district  known  to  the 
ambitious  western  mind  as  the  Groat  American  Desert, 
enclosing  i)i  its  midst  that  slowly  evaporating  inland  sea, 
the  Great  Salt  Lake,  a  last  relic  of  some  extinct  chain 
of  mighty  waters  once  comparable  to  Superior,  Erie,  and 
Ontario.  In  Mexico,  again,  where  the  twin  ranges  draw 
closer  together,  desert  conditions  once  more  supervene. 
But  it  is  in  central  Australia  that  the  causes  which  lead  to 
the  desert  state  are,  perhaps  on  the  whole,  best  exemplified. 


344  DESERT  SANDS 

There,  ranges  of  high  mountains  extend  almost  all  round 
the  coasts,  and  so  completely  intercept  the  rainfall  which 
ought  to  fertilise  the  great  central  plain  that  the  rivers  are 
almost  all  short  and  local,  and  one  thirsty  waste  spreads 
for  miles  and  miles  together  over  the  whole  unexplored 
interior  of  the  continent. 

But  why  are  deserts  rocky  and  sandy  ?  Why  aren't 
they  covered,  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  with  earth,  soil, 
mould,  or  dust  ?  One  can  see  plainly  enough  why  there 
should  be  little  or  no  vegetation  where  no  rain  falls,  but 
one  can't  see  quite  so  easily  why  there  should  be  only  sand 
and  rock  instead  of  arid  clay-field. 

Well,  the  answer  is  that  without  vegetation  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  soil  on  earth  anywhere.  The  top  layer  of  the 
land  in  all  ordinary  and  well-behaved  countries  is  composed 
entirely  of  vegetable  mould,  the  decaying  remains  of  in- 
numerable generations  of  weeds  and  grasses.  Earth  to 
earth  is  ti}G  rule  of  nature.  Soil,  in  fact,  consists  entirely 
of  dead  leaves.  And  where  there  are  no  leaves  to  die  and 
decay,  there  can  be  no  mould  or  soil  to  speak  of.  Darwin 
showed,  indeed,  in  his  last  great  book,  that  we  owe  the 
whole  earthy  covering  of  our  hills  and  plains  almost 
entirely  to  the  perennial  exertions  of  that  friend  of  the 
farmers,  the  harmless,  necessary  earthworm.  Year  after 
year  the  silent  worker  is  busy  every  night  pulling  down 
leaves  through  his  tunnelled  burrow  into  his  underground 
nest,  and  there  converting  them  by  means  of  his  castings 
into  the  black  mould  which  produces,  in  the  end,  for 
lordly  man,  all  his  cultivable  fields  and  pasture-lands  and 
meadows.  Where  there  are  no  leaves  and  no  earth-worms, 
therefore,  there  can  be  no  soil ;  and  under  those  circum- 
stances  we  get  what  we  familiarly  k^ow  as  a  desert. 

The  normal  course  of  events  where  new  land  rises 
above  the  sea  is  something  like  this,  as  oceanic  isles  have 


DESEliT  SANDS  345 

sufficiently  demonstrated.  The  rock  wlicn  it  first  emerges 
from  the  water  rises  bare  and  rugged  like  a  sea-clifl" ;  no 
living  thing,  annnal  or  vegetable,  is  harboured  anywhere 
on  its  naked  surface.  In  time,  however,  as  rain  falls  upon 
its  jutting  peaks  and  barren  pinnacles,  disintegration  sets 
in,  or,  to  speak  plainer  English,  the  rock  crumbles  ;  and 
soon  streams  wash  down  tiny  deposits  of  sand  and  mud 
thus  produced  into  the  valleys  and  hollows  of  the  upheaved 
area.  At  the  same  time  lichens  begin  to  spring  in  yellow 
patches  upon  the  bare  face  of  the  rock,  and  feathery  ferns, 
whose  spores  have  been  wafted  by  the  wind,  or  carried  by 
the  waves,  or  borne  on  the  feet  of  unconscious  birds,  sprout 
here  and  there  from  the  clefts  and  crannies.  These,  as 
they  die  and  decay,  in  turn  form  a  thin  layer  of  vegetable 
mould,  the  first  beginning  of  a  local  soil,  in  which  the 
trusty  earthworm  (imported  in  the  egg  on  driftwood  or 
floating  weeds)  straightway  sets  to  work  to  burrow,  and 
which  he  rapidly  increases  by  his  constant  labour.  On  the 
soil  thus  deposited,  flowering  plants  and  trees  can  soon 
root  themselves,  as  fast  as  seeds,  nuts  or  fruits  are  wafted 
to  the  island  by  various  accidents  from  surrounding 
countries.  The  new  land  thrown  up  by  the  great  eruption 
of  Krakatoa  has  in  this  way  already  clothed  itself  from 
head  to  foot  with  a  luxuriant  sheet  of  ferns,  mi  sses,  and 
other  vegetation. 

First  soil,  then  plant  and  animal  life,  are  thus  in  the 
last  resort  wholly  dependent  for  their  existence  on  the 
amount  of  rainfall.  But  in  deserts,  where  rain  seldom  or 
never  falls  (except  by  accident)  the  first  term  in  this  series 
is  altogether  wanting.  There  can  be  no  rivers,  brooks  or 
streams  to  wash  down  beds  of  alluvif.1  depcjsit  from  the 
mountains  to  the  valleys.  Denudation  (the  term,  though 
rather  awful,  is  not  an  improper  one)  must  therefore  take 
a  difterent  turn.     Practically  speaking,  there  is  no  water 


346  DESERT  SANDS 

action  ;  the  work  is  all  done  by  sun  and  wind.  Under 
these  circumstances,  the  rocks  crumble  away  very  slowly 
by  mere  exposure  into  small  fragments,  which  the  wind 
knocks  off  and  blows  about  the  surface,  forming  sand  or 
dust  of  them  in  all  convenient  hollows.  The  frequent 
currents,  produced  by  the  heated  air  that  lies  upon  the 
basking  layer  of  sand,  continually  keep  the  surface  agitated, 
and  so  blow  about  the  sand  and  grind  one  piece  against 
the  other  till  it  becomes  ever  finer  and  finer.  Thus  for 
the  most  part  the  hollows  or  valleys  of  deserts  are  filled  by 
plains  of  bare  sand,  while  their  higher  portions  consist 
rather  of  barren,  rocky  mountains  or  table-land. 

The  effect  upon  whatever  animal  or  vegetable  life  can 
manage  here  and  there  to  survive  under  such  circumstances 
is  very  peculiar.  Deserts  are  the  most  exacting  of  all 
known  environments,  and  they  compel  their  inhabitants 
with  profound  imperiousness  to  knuckle  under  to  their 
prejudices  and  preconceptions  in  ten  thousand  particulars. 

To  begin  with,  all  the  smaller  denizens  of  the  desert — 
whether  butterflies,  beetles,  birds,  or  lizards — must  be 
quite  uniformly  isabelline  or  sand-coloured.  This  uni- 
versal determination  of  the  desert-haunting  creatures  to 
fall  in  with  the  fashion  and  to  harmonise  with  their 
surroundings  adds  considerably  to  the  painfully  mono- 
tonous effect  of  desert  scenery.  A  green  plant,  a  blue 
butterfly,  a  red  and  yellow  bird,  a  black  or  bronze- 
coloured  beetle  or  lizard  would  improve  the  artistic  aspect 
of  the  desert  not  a  little.  But  no  ;  the  animals  will  hear 
nothing  of  such  gaudy  hues  ;  with  Quaker  uniformity  they 
will  clothe  themselves  in  dove-colour ;  they  will  all  wear  a 
sandy  pepper-and-salt  with  as  great  unanimity  as  the 
ladies  of  the  Court  (on  receipt  of  orders)  wear  Court 
mourning  for  the  late  lamented  King  of  the  Tongataboo 
Islands. 


DESERT  SANDS  347 

In  reality,  this  universal  sombre  tint  of  desert  animals 
is  a  beautiful  example  of  the  imperious  working  of  our 
modern  Dciis  ex  viacJiind,  natural  selection.  The  more 
uniform  in  hue  is  the  environment  of  any  particular  region, 
the  more  uniform  in  hue  must  be  all  its  inhabitants.  In 
the  arctic  snows,  for  example,  we  find  this  principle  pushed 
to  its  furthest  logical  conclusion.  There,  everything  is  and 
must  be  white — hares,  foxes,  and  ptarmigans  alike  ;  and 
the  reason  is  obvious — there  can  be  no  exception.  Any 
brown  or  black  or  reddish  animal  who  ventured  north 
would  at  once  render  himself  unpleasantly  conspicuous  in 
the  midst  of  the  uniform  arctic  whiteness.  If  he  were  a 
brown  hare,  for  example,  the  foxes  and  bears  and  birds  of 
prey  of  the  district  would  spot  him  at  once  on  the  white 
fields,  and  pounce  down  upon  him  forthwith  on  his  first 
appearance.  That  hare  would  leave  no  similar  descendants 
to  continue  the  race  of  brown  hares  in  arctic  regions  after 
him.  Or,  suppose,  on  the  other  hand,  it  were  a  brown  fox 
who  invaded  the  domain  of  eternal  snow.  All  the  hares 
and  ptarmigans  of  his  new  district  would  behold  him 
coming  from  afar  and  keep  well  out  of  his  way,  while  he, 
poor  creature,  would  never  be  able  to  spot  them  at  all 
among  the  white  snow-fields.  He  would  starve  for  want 
of  prey,  at  the  very  time  when  the  white  fox,  his  neighbour, 
was  stealing  unperceived  with  stealthy  tread  upon  the 
hares  and  ptarmigans.  In  this  way,  from  generation  to 
generation  of  arctic  animals,  the  blacker  or  browner  have 
been  constantly  weeded  out,  and  the  greyer  and  whiter 
have  been  constantly  encouraged,  till  now  all  arctic 
animals  alike  are  as  spotlessly  snowy  as  the  snow  around 
them. 

In  the  desert  much  the  same  causes  operate,  in   a 

slightly  different  way,  in  favour  of  a  general  greyness  or 

brownness  as  against  pronounced  shades  of  black,  white, 
23 


348  DESERT  SANDS 

red,  green,  or  yellow.  Desert  animals,  like  intense  South 
Kensington,  go  in  only  for  neutral  tints.  In  proportion  as 
each  individual  approaches  in  hue  to  the  sand  about  it  will 
it  succeed  in  life  in  avoiding  its  enemies  or  in  creeping 
upon  its  prey,  according  to  circumstances.  In  proportion 
as  it  presents  a  strikingly  vivid  or  distinct  appearance 
among  the  surrounding  sand  will  it  make  itself  a  sure 
mark  for  its  watchful  foes,  if  it  happen  to  be  an  un- 
protected skulker,  or  will  it  be  seen  beforehand  and 
avoided  by  its  prey,  if  it  happen  to  be  a  predatory  hunting 
or  insect-eating  beast.  Hence  on  the  sandy  desert  all 
species  alike  are  uniformly  sand-coloured.  Spotty  lizards 
bask  on  spotty  sands,  keeping  a  sharp  look-out  for  spotty 
butterflies  and  spotty  beetles,  only  to  be  themselves  spotted 
and  devoured  in  turn  by  equally  spotty  birds,  or  snakes,  or 
tortoises.  All  nature  seems  to  have  gone  into  half-mourn- 
ing together,  or,  converted  by  a  passing  Puritan  missionary, 
to  have  clad  itself  incontinently  in  grey  and  fawn-colour. 

Even  the  larger  beasts  that  haunt  the  desert  take  their 
tone  not  a  little  from  their  sandy  surroundings.  You  have 
only  to  compare  the  desert-haunting  lion  with  the  other 
great  cats  to  see  at  once  the  reason  for  his  peculiar  uni- 
form. The  tigers  and  other  tropical  jungle-cats  have  their 
coats  arranged  in  vertical  stripes  of  black  and  yellow,  which, 
though  you  would  hardly  believe  it  unless  you  saw  them  in 
their  native  nullahs  (good  word  'nullah,'  gives  a  convinc- 
ing Indian  tone  to  a  narrative  of  adventure),  harmonise 
marvellously  with  the  lights  and  shades  of  the  bamboos 
and  cane-brakes  through  whose  depths  the  tiger  moves  so 
noiselessly. 

Looking  into  the  gloom  of  a  tangled  jungle,  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  pick  out  the  beast  from  the  yellow  stems  and 
dark  shadows  in  which  it  hides,  save  by  the  baleful  gleam 
of  those  wicked  eyes,  catching  the  light  for  one  second  as 


DESERT  SANDS  349 

they  turn  wistfully  and  bloocltliirstily  towards  the  approach- 
in{3f  stranger.  The  jaguar,  oncelot,  leopard,  and  other  tree- 
cats,  on  the  other  hand,  are  dappled  or  spotted — a  type  of 
coloration  which  exactly  harmonises  with  the  light  and 
shade  of  the  round  sun-spots  seen  through  the  foliage  of  a 
tropical  forest.  They,  too,  are  almost  indistinguishable 
from  the  trees  overhead  as  they  creep  along  cautiously 
on  the  trunks  and  brandies.  But  spots  or  stripes  would 
at  once  betray  the  croucliing  lion  among  the  bare  rocks  or 
desert  sands  ;  and  therefore  the  lion  is  approximately  sand- 
coloured.  Seen  in  a  cage  at  the  Zoo,  the  British  lion  is  a 
very  conspicuous  animal  indeed  ;  but  spread  at  full  length 
on  a  sandy  patch  or  among  bare  yellow  rocks  under  the 
Saharan  sun,  you  may  walk  into  his  mouth  before  you  are 
even  aware  of  his  august  existence. 

The  three  other  great  desert  beasts  of  Asia  or  Africa — 
the  ostrich,  the  giraffe,  and  the  camel — are  less  protectively 
coloured,  for  various  reasons.  Giraffes  and  ostriches  go  in 
herds  ;  they  trust  for  safety  mainly  to  their  swiftness  of 
foot,  and,  when  driven  to  bay,  like  most  gregarious  animals, 
they  make  common  cause  against  the  ill-advised  intruder. 
In  such  cases  it  is  often  well,  for  the  sake  of  stragglers, 
that  the  herd  should  be  readily  distinguished  at  a  distance  ; 
and  it  is  to  insure  this  advantage,  I  believe,  that  giraffes 
have  acquired  their  strongly  marked  spots,  as  zebras  have 
acquired  their  distinctive  stripes,  and  hyrenas  their  similarly 
banded  or  dappled  coats.  One  must  always  remember  that 
disguise  may  be  cariied  a  trifle  too  far,  and  that  recognisa- 
bility  in  the  parents  often  gives  the  young  and  giddy  a 
point  in  their  favour.  For  example,  it  seems  certain  that 
the  general  grey-brown  tint  of  European  rabbits  serves  to 
render  them  indistinguishable  in  a  field  of  bracken,  stubble, 
or  dry  grass.  How  hard  it  is,  either  for  man  or  hawk,  to 
pick  out  rabbits  so  long  as  they  sit  still,  in  an  English 


350  DESERT  SANDS 

meadow  I  But  as  soon  as  tlioy  begin  to  run  towards  their 
burrows  the  white  patch  by  their  tails  inevitably  betrays 
them  ;  and  this  betrayal  seems  at  first  sight  like  a  failure 
of  adaptation.  Certainly  many  a  rabbit  must  be  spotted  and 
shot,  or  killed  by  birds  of  prey,  solely  on  account  of  that 
tell-tale  white  patch  as  he  makes  for  his  shelter.  Never- 
theless, when  we  come  to  look  closer,  we  can  see,  as  Mr. 
Wallace  acutely  suggests,  that  the  tell-tale  patch  has  its 
function  also.  On  the  first  alarm  the  parent  rabbits  take 
to  their  heels  at  once,  and  run  at  any  untoward  sight  or 
sound  toward  the  safety  of  the  burrow.  The  white  patch 
and  the  hoisted  tail  act  as  a  danger-signal  to  the  little 
bunnies,  and  direct  them  which  way  to  escape  the  threatened 
misfortune.  The  young  ones  take  the  hint  at  once  and 
follow  their  leader.  Thus  what  may  be  sometimes  a  dis- 
advantage to  the  individual  animal  becomes  in  the  long 
run  of  incalculable  benefit  to  the  entire  community. 

It  is  interesting  to  note,  too,  how  much  alike  in  build 
and  gait  are  these  three  thoroughbred  desert  roamers,  the 
giraffe,  the  ostrich,  and  the  camel  or  dromedary.  In  their 
long  legs,  their  stalking  march,  their  tall  necks,  and  their 
ungainly  appearance  they  all  betoken  their  common  adapta- 
tion to  the  needs  and  demands  of  a  special  environment. 
Since  food  is  scarce  and  shelter  rare,  they  have  to  run  about 
much  over  large  spaces  in  search  of  a  livelihood  or  to  escape 
their  enemies.  Then  the  burning  nature  of  the  sand  as 
well  as  the  need  for  speed  compels  them  to  have  long  legs 
which  in  turn  necessitate  equally  long  necks,  if  they  are  to 
reach  the  ground  or  the  trees  overhead  for  food  and  drink. 
Their  feet  have  to  be  soft  and  padded  to  enable  them  to 
run  over  the  sand  with  ease  ;  and  hard  horny  patches  must 
protect  their  knees  and  all  other  portions  of  the  body 
liable  to  touch  the  sweltering  surface  when  they  lie  down 
to  rest  themselves.    Finally,  they  can  all  endure  thirst  for 


DESERT  SANDS  351 

long  periods  together  ;  and  the  camel,  the  most  inveterate 
desert-haunter  of  the  trio,  is  even  provided  with  a  special 
stomach  to  take  in  water  for  several  days  at  a  stretch, 
besides  having  a  peculiarly  tough  skin  in  which  perspiration 
is  reduced  to  a  minimum.  He  carries  his  own  water-supply 
internally,  and  wastes  as  little  of  it  by  the  way  as  possible. 

What  the  camel  is  among  animals  that  is  the  cactus 
among  plants — the  most  confirmed  and  specialised  of 
desert-haunting  organisms.  It  has  been  wholly  developed 
in,  by,  and  for  the  desert.  I  don't  mean  merely  to  say  that 
cactuses  resemble  camels  because  they  are  clumsy,  ungainly, 
awkward,  and  paradoxical ;  that  would  be  a  point  of  view 
almost  as  far  beneath  the  dignity  of  science  (which  in  spite 
of  occasional  lapses  into  the  sin  of  levity  I  endeavour  as  a 
rule  piously  to  uphold)  as  the  old  and  fallacious  reason 
*  because  there's  a  B  in  both.'  But  cactuses,  like  camels, 
take  in  their  water  supply  whenever  they  can  get  it,  and 
never  waste  any  of  it  on  the  way  by  needless  evaporation. 
As  they  form  the  perfect  central  type  of  desert  vegetation, 
and  are  also  familiar  plants  to  everyone,  they  may  be  taken 
as  a  good  illustrative  example  of  the  effect  that  desert  con- 
ditions inevitably  produce  upon  vegetable  evolution. 

Quaint,  shapeless,  succulent,  jointed,  the  cactuses  look 
at  first  sight  as  if  they  were  all  leaves,  and  had  no  stem  or 
trunk  worth  mentioning.  Of  course,  therefore,  the  exact 
opposite  is  really  the  case  ;  for,  as  a  late  lamented  poet  has 
assured  us  in  mournful  numbers,  things  (generally  speak- 
ing) are  not  what  they  seem.  The  true  truth  about  the 
cactuses  runs  just  the  other  v/ay ;  they  are  all  stem  and  no 
leaves ;  what  look  like  leaves  being  really  joints  of  the  trunk 
or  branches,  and  the  foliage  being  all  dwarfed  and  stunted 
into  the  prickly  hairs  that  dot  and  encumber  the  surface. 
All  plants  of  very  arid  soils — for  example,  our  common 
English  stonecrops— tend  to  be  thick,  jointed,  and  succu- 


352  DESERT  SANDS 

lent ;  the  distinction  between  stem  and  leaves  tends  to  dis- 
appear ;  and  the  wliole  weed,  aceustonied  at  times  to  long 
drought,  acquires  the  habit  of  drinking  in  water  greedily 
at  its  rootlets  after  every  rain,  and  storing  it  away  for  future 
use  in  its  thick,  sponge-like,  and  water-tight  tissues.  To 
prevent  undue  evaporation,  the  surface  also  is  covered  with 
a  thick,  shiny  skin — a  sort  of  vegetable  macintosh,  which 
effectually  checks  all  unnecessary  transpiration.  Of  this 
desert  type,  then,  the  cactus  is  the  furthest  possible  term. 
It  has  no  Hat  leaves  with  expanded  blades,  to  wither  and 
die  in  the  scorching  desert  air  ;  but  in  their  stead  the  thick 
and  jointed  stems  do  the  same  work — absorb  carbon  from 
the  carbonic  acid  of  the  air,  and  store  up  water  in  the  driest 
of  seasons.  Then,  to  repel  the  attacks  of  herbivores,  who 
would  gladly  get  at  the  juicy  morsel  if  they  could,  the 
foliage  has  been  turned  into  sharp  defensive  spines  and 
prickles.  The  cactus  is  tenacious  of  life  to  a  wonderful 
degree ;  and  for  reproduction  it  trusts  not  merely  to  its 
brilliant  flowers,  fertilised  for  the  most  part  by  desert  moths 
or  butterflies,  and  to  its  juicy  fruit,  of  which  the  common 
prickly  pear  is  a  familiar  instance,  but  it  has  the  special 
property  of  springing  afresh  from  any  stray  bit  or  fragment 
of  the  stem  that  happens  to  fall  upon  the  dry  ground  any- 
where. 

True  cactuses  (in  the  native  state)  are  confined  to 
America  ;  but  the  unhappy  naturalist  who  ventures  to  say 
so  in  mixed  society  is  sure  to  get  sat  upon  (without  due 
cause)  by  numberless  people  who  have  seen  '  the  cactus ' 
wild  all  the  world  over.  For  one  thing,  the  prickly  pear 
and  a  few  other  common  American  species,  have  been 
naturalised  and  run  wild  throughout  North  Africa,  the 
Mediterranean  shores,  and  a  great  part  of  India,  Arabia, 
and  Persia.  But  what  is  more  interesting  and  more  confus- 
ing still,  other  desert  plants  which  are  not  cactuses,  living  in 


DESERT  SANDS  353 

South  Africa,  Siiid,  Rajputaim,  and  elsewhere  unspecified, 
have  been  driven  by  the  nature  of  their  circumstances  and 
the  dryness  of  the  soil  to  adopt  precisely  the  same  tactics, 
and  therefore  unconsciously  to  mimic  or  imitate  the  cactus 
tribe  in  the  minutest  details  of  their  personal  appearance. 
Most  of  these  fallacious  pseudo-cactuses  are  really  spurges 
or  euphorbias  by  family.  They  resemble  the  true  Mexican 
type  in  externals  only  ;  that  is  to  say,  their  stems  are  thick, 
jointed,  and  leaf-like,  and  they  grow  with  clumsy  and  awk- 
ward angularity  ;  but  in  the  flower,  fruit,  seed,  and  in  short 
in  all  structural  peculiarities  whatsoever,  they  differ  utterly 
from  the  genuine  cactus,  and  closely  resemble  all  their 
spurge  relations.  Adaptive  likenesses  of  this  sort,  duo  to 
mere  stress  of  local  conditions,  have  no  more  weight  as 
indications  of  real  relationship  than  the  wings  of  the  bat 
or  the  flippers  of  the  seal,  which  don't  make  the  one  into 
a  skylark,  or  the  oth.'^r  into  a  mackerel. 

In  Sahara,  on  the  other  hand,  the  prevailing  type  of 
vegetation  (wherever  there  is  any)  belongs  to  the  kind 
playfully  described  by  Sir  Lambert  Playfair  as  '  salso- 
laceous,'  that  is  to  say,  in  plainer  English,  it  consists  of 
plants  like  the  glass-wort  and  the  kali-weed,  which  are 
commonly  burnt  to  make  soda.  These  fleshy  weeds 
resemble  the  cactuses  in  being  succulent  and  thick-skinned 
but  they  difter  from  them  in  their  curious  ability  to  live 
upon  very  salt  and  soda-laden  water.  All  through  the 
great  African  desert  region,  in  fact,  most  of  the  water  is 
more  or  less  brackish;  'bitter  lakes'  are  common,  and 
gypsum  often  covers  the  ground  over  immense  areas. 
These  districts  occupy  the  beds  of  vast  ancient  lakes,  now 
almost  dry,  of  which  the  existing  chotts,  or  very  salt  pools, 
are  the  last  shrunken  and  evanescent  relics. 

And  this  point  about  the  water  brings  me  at  last  to  a 
cardinal  fact  in  the  constitution  of  deserts  which  is  almost 


354  DKSERT  SANDS 

always  utterly  misconceived  in  Europe.  Most  people  at 
home  picture  the  doeert  to  themselves  as  wholly  doatl,  flat, 
and  sandy.  To  talk  about  the  fauna  and  flora  of  Sahara 
sounds  in  their  ears  like  self-contradictory  nonsense.  But, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  that  uniform  and  lifeless  desert  of  the 
popular  fancy  exists  only  in  those  sister  arts  that  George 
II. — good,  practical  man—so  heartily  despised, '  boetry  and 
bainting.'  The  desert  of  real  life,  though  less  impressive, 
is  far  more  varied.  It  has  its  ups  and  downs,  its  hills  and 
valleys.  It  has  its  sandy  plains  and  its  rocky  ridges.  It 
has  its  lakes  and  ponds,  and  even  its  rivers.  It  has  its 
plants  and  animals,  its  oases  and  palm-groves.  In  short, 
like  everything  else  on  earth,  it's  a  good  deal  more  complex 
than  people  imagine. 

One  may  take  Sahara  as  a  very  good  example  of  the 
actual  desert  of  physical  geography,  in  contradistinction  to 
the  level  and  lifeless  desert  that  stretches  like  the  sea  over 
illimitable  spaces  in  verso  or  canvas.     And  here,  I  fear,  I 
am  going  to  dispel  another  common  and  cherished  illusion. 
It  is  my  fate  to  be  an  iconoclast,  and  perhaps  long  practice 
has  made   me   rather  like  the  trade  than  otherwise.     A 
popular  belief  exists   all  over  Europe  that  the  late  M. 
Roudaire  —that  De  Lesseps  who  never  quite  *  came  off ' — 
proposed  to  cut  a  canal  from  the  Mediterranean  into  the 
heart  of  Africa,  which  was   intended,  in  the  stereotyped 
phrase  of  journalism,  to  '  flood  Sahara,'  and  convert  the 
desert  into  an  inland  sea.     He  might  almost  as  well  have 
talked  of  cutting  a  canal  from  Brighton  to  the  Devil's 
Dyke  and  *  submerging  England,'  as  the  devil  wished  to 
do  in  the  old  legend.     As  a  matter  of  fact,  good,  practical 
M.  Roudaire,   sound   engineer   that   he  was,  never  even 
dreamt  of  anything  so  chimerical.     What   he  did  really 
propose  was  something  far  milder  and  simpler  in  its  way, 
but,  as  his  scheme  has  given  rise  to  the  absurd  notion  thai 


DESERT  SANDS  355 

Sahara  as  a  whole  hes  below  sea-level,  it  may  bo  worth 
while  briefly  to  explain  what  it  was  ho  really  thought  of 
doing. 

Some  sixty  miles  south  of  Biskra,  the  most  fashionablo 
resort  in  the  Aljjferian  Sahara,  there  is  a  deep  depression 
two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  Ion*,',  partly  occupied  by  three 
salt  lal.es  of  the  kind  so  common  over  the  whole  dried-up 
Saharan  area.     These  three  hikes,  shrunken  renniants  of 
much  larger  sheets,  lie  below  the  level  of  the  Mediterranean, 
but  they  are  separated  from  it,  and  from  one  another,  by 
upland  ranges  which  rise  considerably  above  the  sea  line. 
^Vhat  M.  lloudaire  proposed  to  do  was  to  cut  canals  through 
these  three  barriers,  and   Hood   the   basins   of  the    salt 
lakes.     The  result  would  have  been,  not  as  is  commonly 
said  to  submerge  Sahara,  nor  even  to  form  anything  worth 
seriously  describing  as  '  an  inland  sea,'  but  to  substitute 
three  larger  salt  lakes  for  the  existing  three  smaller  ones. 
The  area  so   Hooded,  however,  would  bear  to  the  whole 
area  of  Sahara  something  like  the  same  proportion  that 
^Vindsor  Park  bears  to   the   entire   surface  of  England. 
This  is  the  true  truth  about  that  stupendous  undertaking, 
which  is  to  create  a  new  Mediterranean  in  the  midst  of  the 
Dark  Continent,  and  to  modify  the  climate  of  Northern 
Europe  to  something   like   the  condition  of  the   Glacial 
Epoch.     A  new  Dead  Sea  would  be  much  nearer  the  mark, 
and  the  only  way  Northern  Europe  would  feel  the  change, 
if  it  felt  it  at  all,  would  be  in  a  slight  fall  in  the  price  of 
dates  in  the  wholesale  market. 

No,  Sahara  as  a  whole  is  not  below  sea-level ;  it  is  not 
the  dry  bed  of  a  recent  ocean  ;  and  it  is  not  as  Hat  as  the 
proverbial  pancake  all  over.  Part  of  it,  indeed,  is  very 
mountainous,  and  all  of  it  is  more  or  less  varied  in  level. 
The  Upper  Sahara  consists  of  a  rocky  plateau,  rising  at 
times  into  considerable  peaks  ;    the  Lower,  to  which   it 


356  DESERT  SANDS 

descends  by  a  steep  slope,  is  •  a  vast  depression  of  clay  and 
Band,'  but  still  for  the  most  part  standing  high  above  sea- 
level.  No  portion  of  the  Upper  Sahara  is  less  than  1,800 
feet  high — a  good  deal  higher  than  Dartmoor  or  Derby- 
shire. Most  of  the  Lower  reaches  from  two  to  three 
hundred  feet — quite  as  elevated  as  Essex  or  Leicester. 
The  few  spots  below  sea-level  consist  of  the  beds  of  ancient 
lakes,  now  much  shrunk  by  evaporation,  owing  to  the 
present  rainless  condition  of  the  country  ;  the  soil  around 
these  is  deep  in  gypsum,  and  the  Vi^ater  itself  is  considerably 
Baiter  than  the  sea.  That,  however,  is  always  the  case 
with  freshwater  lakes  in  their  last  dotage,  as  American 
geologists  have  amply  proved  in  the  case  of  the  Great  Salt 
Lake  of  Utah.  Moving  sand  undoubtedly  covers  a  large 
space  in  both  divisions  of  the  desert,  but  according  to  Sir 
Lambert  Playfair,  our  best  modern  authority  on  the  sub- 
ject, it  occupies  not  more  than  one-third  part  of  the  entire 
Algerian  Sahara.  Elsewhere  rock,  clay,  and  muddy  lake 
are  the  prevailing  features,  interspersed  with  not  infrequent 
date-groves  and  villages,  the  product  of  artesian  wells,  or 
excavated  spaces,  or  river  oases.  Even  Sahara,  in  short, 
to  give  it  its  due,  is  not  by  any  means  so  black  as  it's 
painted. 


T 


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tion as  an  emin'^ntly  entertaining  and  suggestive  writer. 

"  '  Flowers  and  their  Pedigrees,'  by  Grant  Allen,  with  many  illustrations,  is  not 
merely  a  description  of  British  wild  flowers,  but  a  discussion  of  why  they  are  vhr. 
they  are,  and  how  they  come  to  be  so ;  in  other  words,  a  scientific  study  of  the  migri, 
tion  and  transformation  of  plants,  illustrated  by  the  daisy,  the  strawberry,  the  cleavers, 
wheat,  the  mountain  tulip,  the  cuckoo-pint,  and  a  few  others.  The  study  is  a  delight- 
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JDECOLLECTIONS  OF   THE  COURT  OF  THE 

X\  TUILERIES.  By  Madam K  Carkttk,  Lady-of-IIonor  to  the 
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'EMOIRS    OF    MADAME    DE    REM  US  AT. 

i8o2~i8o8.     Edited  by  her  Grandson,   Paul  de  Rlmusat, 
Senator.     3  volumes,  crown  Svo.     Half  bound,  $2.25. 


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was  not  only  lady-in-waiting  to  Josephine  during  the  eventful  years  1802-1808,  but 
was  her  intimate  friend  and  tiusted  confidante.  Thus  we  get  a  vicv  of  the  daily  life 
of  Bonaparte  and  his  wife,  and  the  terms  on  which  they  lived,  noi  elsewhere  to  be 
found."— iV.  Y.  Mail. 

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A 


SELECTION   FROM    THE   LETTERS    OF 

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TX  J  EMOIRS  OF  NAPOLEON,  his  Court  and  Family. 
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*'  Memoirs  of  the  Duchess  d'Abrantes,"  which  have  hitherto  appeared  in  a 
costly  octavo  edition,  in  a  much  cheaper  form,  and  in  a  style  to  correspond 
with  De  Remusat.  This  work  will  be  likely  now  to  be  read  v.ith  awakened 
interest,  especially  as  it  presents  a  much  more  favorable  portrait  of  the  great 
Corsican  than  that  limned  by  Madame  de  Remusat,  and  supplies  many  valu- 
able and  interesting  details  respecting  the  Court  and  Family  of  Napoleon, 
which  are  found  in  no  other  work. 


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'HE  HISTORY  OF  A  SLAVE.  By  H.  U.  John- 
STON,  author  of  "  The  Kilimanjaro  Expedition,  etc.  With  47 
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trade." —  'J'hc  Athencemn. 


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HE  MEMOIRS  OF  AN  ARABIAN  PRIN- 
CESS. By  Emily  Ruete,  nde  Princess  of  Oman  and  Zanzibar. 
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disastrous  consequences,  the  duels,  attempts  at  assassination,  and  other  adventures  and 
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details  of  the  American  war." — London  Athencrum. 


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comprehensive  view  of  early  civilization.  .  .  .  As  to  the  world  of  the  past,  the  volume 
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comprehensive  manner.  It  is  not  the  arts  alone  which  are  fully  illustrated,  but  the 
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jects extend  from  Themistocles  to  Wellington. 

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guished persons  whose  doings  form  the  staple  of  history.  These  pen-portraits  often 
stand  out  from  the  narrative  with  luminous  and  vivid  effect,  the  writers  seeming  to  have 
concentrated  upon  them  all  their  powers  of  penetration  and  all  their  skill  in  graphic 
delineation.  Few  things  in  literature  are  marked  by  analysis  so  close,  discernment  so 
keen,  or  eftects  so  brilliant  and  dramatic." — Prom  the  Pre/ace. 


L 


IFE  OF  THE  GREEKS  AND  ROMANS,  de- 
scribed  from  Ancient  Monuments.  By  E.  Guhl  and  W. 
KONER.  Translated  from  the  third  German  edition  by  F. 
HUEFFER.     With  543  Illustrations.     Svo.     Cloth,  $2.50. 


"The  result  of  careful  and  unwearied  research  in  every  nook  and  cranny  of  ancient 
learning.  Nowhere  else  can  the  student  find  so  many  facts  in  illustration  of  Greek 
and  Roman  methods  and  manners." — Dr.  C.  A'.  Adams's  Manual  of  Historical 
Literature. 


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NATURALISTS  RAMBLES  ABOUT  HOME. 
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of  animal  and  insect  life ;  and  it  is  of  the  habits  and  nature  of  these  that  he  discourses 
pleasantly  in  this  book.  Summer  and  winter,  morning  and  evening,  he  has  been  in 
the  open  air  all  the  time  on  the  alert  for  some  new  revelation  of  instinct,  or  feeling, 
or  chara';ter  on  the  part  of  his  neighbor  creatures.  Most  that  he  sees  and  hears  he 
reports  agreeably  to  us,  as  it  was  no  doubt  delightful  io  himself.  I>ooks  like  this, 
which  are  free  from  all  the  technicalities  of  science,  but  yet  lack  little  that  has  scien- 
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one  for  boys  in  particulak'  to  breathe." — Boston  Transcript. 


D 


AYS  OUT  OF  DOORS.  By  Charles  C.  Abbott, 
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pathetic observer.  Dr.  Abbott  is  not  only  a  clear-eyed  observer  and  a  sound  philoso- 
pher; he  is  an  admirable  writer  as  well." — The  Deacon,  Boston. 

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a  naturalist  whose  graceful  writings  have  entertained  and  instructed  the  public  before 
now.  Tho  essays  and  narratives  in  this  book  are  grouped  in  twelve  chapters,  named 
after  the  months  of  the  year.  Under  'January'  the  author  talks  of  squirrels,  musk- 
rats,  water-snakes,  and  the  predatory  animals  that  withstand  the  rigor  of  winter: 
under  '  February '  of  frogs  and  herons,  crows  and  blackbirds ;  under  '  March '  of  gulls 
and  fishes  and  foxy  sparrows,  and  so  on  appropriately,  instructively,  and  divertingly 
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T 


'HE  PLAYTIME  NATURALIST.  By  Dr.  J.  E. 
Taylor,  F.  L.  S.,  editor  of  "  Science  Gossip."  With  366  Illus- 
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of  the  "Natural  History  Society"  of  Mugby  School.  "As  the  writer,"  says  the 
author  in  his  preface,  "was  once  a  boy  himself,  and  vividly  remembers  the  never-to-be- 
forgoitcn  rambles  and  observations  of  the  objects  in  the  country,  he  thought  he  could 
not  do  better  than  enlist  this  younger  generation  in  the  same  loves  and  pleasures." 

"The  work  contains  abundant  evidence  of  the  author's  knowledge  and  enthusiasm, 
and  any  boy  who  may  read  it  carc''u!ly  is  sure  to  find  something  to  attract  him.  The 
Style  is  clear  and  lively,  and  there  are  many  good  illustrations." — Xatitre. 


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'Y^HE  REAR-GUARD  OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 

-*        By  James   R.  (Jilmork  (Edmund   Kirke).     With  Portrait  of 
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"  The  Rear-Guard  of  the  Revolution  "  is  a  narrative  of  the  adventures  of  the 
pioneers  that  first  crossed  the  Alleghanies  and  settled  in  what  is  now  Tennessee,  under 
the  leadership  of  two  remarkable  men,  James  Robertson  and  John  Sevier.  The  title 
of  the  book  is  derived  from  the  fact  that  a  body  of  hardy  volvmteers,  under  the  leader* 
ship  of  Sevier,  crossed  the  mountains,  and  by  their  timely  arrival  secured  the  defeat 
of  the  British  army  at  King's  Mountain. 


7 


OHN  SEVIER  AS  A  COMMONWEALTH^ 
BUILDER.  A  Sequel  to  "The  Rear-Guard  of  the  Revo- 
lution." By  James  R.  Gilmore  (Edmund  Kirke).  i2mo. 
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John  Sevier  was  among  the  pioneers  who  settled  the  region  in  Eastern  Tennessee. 
He  was  the  founder  of  the  State  of  Franklin,  which  afterv  a'-d  became  Tennessee,  and 
was  the  first  Governor  of  the  State.  His  innumerable  battles  with  the  Indians,  his  re- 
markable exploits,  his  address  and  genius  fur  leadership,  render  his  career  one  of  the 
most  thrilling  and  interesting  011  record. 


7 


^HE  ADVANCE-GUARD  OF  WESTERN 
CIVILIZA  TlOiV.  By  James  R.  Gilmore  (Edmund  Kirke). 
With  Map,  and  Portrait  of  James  Robertson.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 


This  work  is  in  a  measure  a  continuation  of  the  thrilling  story  told  by  the  a>ithor  in 
his  two  preceding  volumes,  "The  Rear-Guard  of  the  Revolution"  and  "John  Sevier 
as  a  Commonwealth-Builder."  The  three  volumes  together  cover,  says  the  author 
in  his  preface,  "a  neglected  period  of  American  history,  and  they  disclose  facts  well 
worthy  the  attention  of  historians — namely,  that  these  Western  men  turned  the  tide 
of  the  American  Revolution,  and  subsequently  saved  the  newly-formed  Union  from 
disruption,  and  thereby  made  possible  our  present  great  republic." 


T 


he:  two  SPIES:  Nathan  Hale  and  John  Andr/. 
By  Benson  J.  Lossing,  LL.  D.  Illustrated  with  Pen-and-ink 
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Andrt;."     Square  8vo.     Cloth,  gilt  top,  $2.00. 

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Andr6,"  written  by  his  friend  .■\nna  Seward,  with  a  portrait  and  biographical  sketch 
of  Miss  Seward,  and  letters  to  her  by  Major  Andr6, 


New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  i,  3,  &  5  Bond  Street. 


